Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: The BAU is summoned to Washington to investigate murders alleged to have been committed by Bigfoot/Sasquatch. Seaver is attracted to a deputy whom Morgan resents. Can they save an abductee, catch the criminals, and rescue a colleague from the forest? Will an agent find love as she avoids a rogue bear? Meet new characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Introduction:** I have previously written fan fiction only for another show, _The Lost_ _World._ But I watch, _Criminal Minds_ and it attracted me as a possible outlet for fics. The first chapter is long because I just learned on Jan. 2, 2015, how to add conventional chapters. My earlier fics had internal chapter headings in some cases, but posted as one long story.

Why a Bigfoot mystery? I was watching an amusing TV show that purports to pursue this legendary beast when it occurred to me that Bigfoot might become a suspect in murders. I have been a student of Bigfoot/Sasquatch and other cryptozoological creatures for years, and they intrigue me. I wrote a fic in, _The Lost World_ stories about the explorers encountering the legendary Nandi Bear in British colonial Kenya, if that might interest anyone here. It's a Mature-Rated fic, as are almost all of mine. The title for that tale is, _Mem'Sahib Bunduki and the Nandi Bear._

So much for background... Ashley Seaver is back, as I needed an unmarried female agent. And one of the local sheriff's deputies in this fic catches her eye. Will he also catch her heart? BTW, OC Peter Blacklaws is a descendant of Geoffrey Blacklaws, an original character in several of my, _The_ _Lost World_ safari-based fics. Peter has immigrated to the USA and is now a senior deputy and a former winemaker. He is a hunter of both men and beasts. He has hunted women a lot along the way, too, and the blonde agent attracts him. Will she share a bed and her emotions with him? Will they determine who has committed The Bigfoot Killings, or will they die trying? Read on…

_**Be advised that this is a Mature story,** containing sexual activity, violence, female bondage, and perhaps some adult language. It is no more explicit than many bestselling mystery novels, but it is not a child's tale, either. Read accordingly. All characters not from the show are my own creations or are public figures used fictionally or involved in incidents that are a matter of open record._ Thanks are expressed to the rights holders for being able to publish fan fiction about this show. Obviously, the show and the core characters are their creations. Original characters are, of course, my own. No resemblance is intended to actual persons other than references to public or historic figures or businesses who are used fictitiously, as are the core cast characters. There is no Meriwether county in Washington. There is a Lewis county, but I wanted a fictional county for this story that would honor the memory of Capt. Meriwether Lewis.

_Special thanks to Sweda for help in learning to post chapters. Kate Callahan appears in later chapters at the request of reader Julia BC. I hope that Kate's fans enjoy her inclusion._

**Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings**

By

Gemini Explorer

_ "He who does not punish evil commands it to be done." Leonardo da Vinci__  
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CHAPTER ONE

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit Chief, Quantico, VA, looked around the room. He sipped his coffee, grateful for the superb Columbian Supremo blend that fellow agent David Rossi had brought and brewed for them to show how much better coffee could be than what they usually made in their office.

Hotchner finished reviewing his notes and closed his folder. He looked around and missed two of his agents. "What became of Reid and Seaver?" he asked.

SSA Derek Morgan jerked a thumb toward an exit that led down the hall. "They went to the cafeteria. Reid said that the coffee was so good that he wanted a Danish to go with it, and Ashley joined him. They like that stuff, Dave. You oughta bring it more often. We deserve to become spoiled."

"We need to begin shortly," said Hotchner, mildly miffed at the absence of two of their number who should have realized that he was almost ready to open the briefing session. He was mollified as the truants entered the room, talking happily.

"Hey, we brought rolls and donuts for everyone," said SSA Spencer Reid as he and SA Ashley Seaver set down large white boxes on a side table.

Hotchner rolled his eyes, but said nothing as everyone moved to seize a share of this unexpected largesse. He knew the value of high morale, especially in view of the morbid nature of their assignments, and let it slide that he had to hold off a little longer on opening the session. His tolerance was further extended when SSA Jennifer Jareau brought him one of the Danish rolls, a particularly succulent looking one with yellow icing and pecans and raisins on top. Rossi strolled over with the coffee pot, and Hotchner sighed and resigned himself to a few more minutes of small talk and eating.

Penelope Garcia breezed in from her computer room, files and a flash drive in hand. It was a Monday and she had not been in the room earlier and was surprised to see Special Agent Seaver, who normally worked human trafficking cases for the Bureau although she had been with the BAU a couple of years before.

"Ashley!" she exclaimed as she set down her supplies and made a beeline for the refreshments. "What are you doing here? Hear that Dave brought some really good coffee? Derek called me about it and I could hardly wait to get my stuff together and get in here to try it."

Hotchner looked up from his pastry and said, "We have a vacancy due to Alex's resignation and I asked Agent Seaver to fill in until a replacement can be found. That should take only a few weeks. Assistant Director Diefenbaker and I have several candidates from other divisions in mind, but we're still mulling over choices and looking at applicants who've been waiting to get into this unit. I want us to be at full strength until we fill that vacancy, so I called Seaver this weekend, and arranged for her to join us for a time."

"And that's about the size of it," said Morgan, smirking a little. "At least, that's how Joe Friday summed things up on, _Dragnet_." Everyone groaned and resumed conversations for some 15 minutes, until Hotchner decided to call the group of profilers to order.

Finally, he rose and said, "Ladies and gentlemen – and you, too, Agent Morgan- I'm sorry to put a damper on your usual Monday morning enthusiasm. But we have a new case that I think needs to take priority over those that we've been working. It has some unusual elements and the agency that requested our assistance says they need to avoid public panic due to one particular aspect of the case. That aspect is, and I'm dead serious, that a primary suspect in this case is, uh, Bigfoot. Or, if you prefer, Sasquatch."

He held up a hand to quiet the barrage of disbelieving comments and lifted eyebrows.

"This case comes to us from the Sheriff of Elk Pass, Washington. That's in Meriwether County. Yes, that's named for Meriwether Lewis, as in the Lewis & Clark Expedition.

"The sheriff is named Grant Ford and it is significant that he was once with Los Angeles PD, where he worked for several years with Asst. Director Diefenbaker, to whom I now report on BAU cases. These men were also in college together, and Mr. Diefenbaker has asked us to look at this case. I think everyone here understands that if he "wishes" for us to take a case, we take it. This is like military generals "wishing" for things. It's basically an order. So, no discussion, please. We _will _take this case and we _will_ solve it, whoever the perpetrator is. My feeling is that it is not going to be a large ape that has been killing these unfortunate Washington citizens.

"Now, if you look at the display onscreen, you can see Sheriff Ford, in his official photo. Nice looking man, tall, dark-haired going gray at the temples, intelligent, and Diefenbaker assures me that he is both well trained and thorough. The sheriff has attended our National Academy for police officers not members of the Bureau. He has an excellent record, and seems popular. He's won election for four terms now and his department has a good record for solving crimes. He is not, I'm told, credulous or naïve. If he says that Bigfoot is a factor, we need not to laugh and to keep an open mind. However, before some of you sneer too much, it is not the sheriff who claims that people are being murdered by an errant Sasquatch. In fact, he agrees with the M.E. that the victims were probably slain by fellow humans. But because certain 'sign' has been found near the victims' bodies that suggests that a large primate killed them, the press and some of the more gullible members of the public have started speculation that it's that celebrated, elusive, giant ape-man that has committed these crimes."

Rossi interrupted. "Aaron, before we progress, can we see the victims and hear what the examiner really thinks? I suspect that that may cut through a lot of innuendo and speculation."

"Coming right up," agreed Hotchner. "Garcia, may we see the next picture: the photos of the victims?"

"Of all the things I do here, I think showing these poor people who died to slake the lusts of some madman is the hardest," said Garcia. "However, here they are. " And she clicked a remote control and photos of eight persons, three male, appeared on the monitor.

"Look at it this way" said Reid. "Seeing our presentations here is where justice begins for these victims. And sometimes, we even save living ones." He looked sympathetically at their computer marvel.

"What had you rather do: run the computers or go out with us and look at these dead people in person?" asked Hotchner. "I can assure you, they smell better onscreen than in person." Garcia's lack of fortitude occasionally got to him and he had had a fight that morning with his girlfriend and wasn't happy about Asst. Director Diefenbaker using his influence to send the team after a suspect who was seriously being mistaken by some people for a mythical animal. Hotchner knew that if the Asst. Director wasn't an old chum of the local sheriff, they wouldn't have had to drop other urgent cases and proceed on this one.

"Hotch…" began Jennifer Jareau.

"All right: I'm a little short tempered this morning. Personal issues. I'll get over them. Go ahead, Garcia. But keep in mind that you have the least involvement with victims. Sometimes, the stress of dealing with the aftermath of their deaths can lead to burnout. I'm surprised that we all handle matters as well as we do."

Without further comment, the plump blonde computer whiz gestured to the screen and Hotchner resumed his narration. He decided to overlook Morgan's sliding a gold-wrapped Swiss chocolate down the table to Garcia, presumably to boost her mood.

"Now, of the eight victims whose likenesses you see here, three are men. They range in age from 19 to 42. They have no discernible connection, although all were from affluent families and had led most of their lives in the area. We have one man with longish brown hair, one with curly black hair, and one who was virtually bald. Ethnically, one was of Mediterranean ancestry, specifically Greek, and the other two were Anglo.

"Turning to the women, you see a more distinct pattern. All five were Anglos, with blonde or light brown hair and light eyes. Looking at the screen – enlarge the faces, please, Garcia- you see three with blue eyes, one with hazel, and one with green. All were quite attractive and were about the same height, five feet seven or within an inch or two either way. Now, either Bigfoot is fonder of Nordic- looking women than I'd realized or we have a human killer who is targeting women who fit this profile. And the ages are within a narrow range: from 18 to 26. The men have no connection with the women except that Ned Miller, the youngest man, disappeared after joining a search party to look for Linda Cameron, the 18-year-old girl. They were both students and were dating at Meriwether County Junior College."

"How often have the bodies been turning up?" asked a thoughtful Rossi. "Was Miller's body found with Cameron's or nearby?"

Hotchner said," Good point, Dave. Those two disappeared at nearly the same time, within three days, but his body was found just two days after he vanished. Hers wasn't discovered for another two and a half weeks, not nearby. The others were spaced over two to three weeks, but the men's bodies were more weathered and had been fed on by scavengers. Probably, they had been dumped for a longer time before being found. It is significant that none of the women's remains showed major decline, and were probably discovered within a day or two of being dumped. Animals had been at most of the bodies, but more so on the men. But each woman was gone for at least two weeks before being found, and when found, she was not ravaged as much as if she'd been out for that length of time."

Reid raised a hand. "Are you saying that the women seem to have been held somewhere for a couple or more weeks before being killed and then left out in the open?"

"Give the boy genius a prize," quipped Morgan, sliding one of the Lindt & Sprungli chocolates to Reid, who accepted it with surprise and pleasure.

Jareau raised a hand. "Were the women raped, or are there other signs of abuse? If raped, was there semen, presumably not that from a Sasquatch, although I don't suppose we really have any comparison samples in the case of the ape-man?"

Hotchner told her that she had a good question and that all of the women showed signs of sexual activity. "But no semen traces were recovered. The M.E. out there theorizes that they were raped or compelled to submit, but that prophylactic rubbers were used. Whoever had them was being careful. No fingerprints, either. He was of the opinion that the corpses were washed off and found traces of soap on one woman. Alcohol may also have been used, but he has only a suspicion, and the odor was long gone by the time he saw the bodies, of course. There were no defensive skin scrapings under the women's fingernails. They had clothing on them or partially torn off by some large assailant, but he was pretty sure that the bodies had been dressed after death, having been nude for some of their captivity. The M.E. has a grim sense of humor. He noted in his report that dressing female victims is an unlikely act for Bigfoot, nor are those animals likely to employ latex condoms. He therefore feels that the murders are inconsistent with the way that a Bigfoot would kill, despite tracks left beside the victims and the violence with which some limbs were wrested off of or nearly off of some victims."

"Wonder if Bigfoot does use condoms?" razzed Morgan. "Man, they barely make those things big enough for me. Stores out there probably have to order outsized ones for Bigfoot. They may just be out of stock now. Maybe we can find his condom dealer. He'd stand out as a customer. This may be how we break the case, Hotch!"

Hotchner rolled his eyes and everyone else groaned. Jareau wadded up a candy wrapper and threw it at Morgan. Garcia and Seaver snickered.

Hotchner called for the next photo. "This is Melissa Winters. She was reported missing a week ago, and may be in the hands of the killer or killers. She's 18, blonde, very attractive, and a popular girl at the same junior college. But she wasn't close to the two dead students from that school. We don't know yet if she's a victim or just ran away from home. But her parents say that would be out of character. She's always been a trustworthy girl, not rebellious or flighty. No known record of involvement with drugs. Wasn't dating any boys in particular, but the sheriff has been talking to all of her known friends. And they're checking to see if she may have been hospitalized anywhere or fallen in a river, etc. So far, they've drawn a blank, and it doesn't look good."

After some additional discussion that basically added little to what they knew, Hotchner announced that they'd meet at the plane in an hour.

"Clear your desks and get together whatever you need besides your Go bags and we'll take a shuttle to the plane. We're lucky; we drew the newer Gulfstream 550 for this trip. It has a range of 6,300 miles, so we should be able to fly straight out there without having to refuel _en route._ It's still going to be a long trip. The max speed is 600 MPH, but for fuel economy and to avoid excess wear on the aircraft, the pilots don't want to travel at full throttle unless there's an urgent need.

"I don't think there's anything to this Bigfoot angle, but on Mr. Diefenbaker's recommendation, we'll take a few 10mm H-K semi-auto carbines and a couple of rifles, just in case. Shotguns, we'll draw from the armory at the Seattle field office and they'll pack some boxes of slug loads for us. Those should stop any animal we might encounter, bears included."

JJ looked nervous. "They have bears there? For real? Please tell me that you're just trying to scare us."

"They have bears," confirmed Rossi. "And elk, deer, cougars, and other animals that you'd expect in a rural region in Washington state. I think they even have rattlesnakes. But you're a bold special agent of the finest law enforcement organization in the world. I can say that with impunity because there aren't any Texas Rangers or Canadian Mounties here to argue the point. But seriously, JJ, we'll protect you. Or, just show any aggressive bears your 'creds'. Tell them that you're from the IRS. That'll scare anyone. The bear will run away."

There was general laughter, and Jareau threw another candy wrapper at the bearded Italian-American agent.

"Very funny," she said. "Dave, I really am a little afraid of the woods. But I'll do my job. I just want someone to stay with me and carry a rifle if we do get out in the sticks to view a body or something. The only bear that I want to see is Smokey, on TV or on a Forest Service billboard."

Hotchner wanted to return to the mission. "We'll order sandwiches or pizza; whatever you want, and have it delivered to the plane. We'll eat in the air. The refrigerator will have the usual soft drinks and candy bars, etc. Does anyone have any other questions?"

"Can I order fried chicken?" wondered Seaver. "I'm really hungry. I got off without breakfast today."

Hotchner tried not to look impatient. "Yes, JJ will tell you where to order from. Actually, the cafeteria can probably provide that in a flight lunch. Now, if no one else has any profound comments, it's wheels up in an hour."

XXX

Once in the air, they settled down to eating and to discussing the case and various personal matters. And other cases were also discussed, some having what many thought to have at least as high priority as this Bigfoot nonsense.

"But don't resent being sent to Washington," Hotchner reminded them. "There is a serial killer out there, and this latest missing girl's life may well be in urgent danger. The sooner we solve this case, the better. And the better we'll look to the Assistant Director. If Diefenbaker likes how we deal with this, he may cut us some slack in other areas. I'm doing next year's budget soon, and the better we look, the more I can hope to get allocated for our operation."

"How far is it out there?" asked Seaver. "Seattle is at the other end of the country from us unless you count Hawaii. Can I get a nap, or is it closer by air than I think?"

"Actually, the physical distance showed at 2,716.9 miles when I checked," said Dr. Spencer Reid. "But with headwinds, we may go slower than expected airspeed, or with a good tail wind, faster. Either way, you should be able to grab a nap."

"Look at the bright side," suggested Rossi. "Maybe we can get fresh salmon out there. Seattle has some impressive fresh fish markets and they have other great food there, too."

Jareau snorted. "With our luck and the need for speed in getting to Elk Pass, we'll probably find the SUV's we get stocked with Spam and beans."

"I'll try to set time aside for a little shopping and a decent meal or two in Seattle after we solve the case," said Hotchner. "We've been running full steam ahead lately. I think we can arrange to stay there for a day or two while we file our reports. Let's just try to catch whoever is killing these people, fast. I can't help thinking that we're probably Melissa Winters's best hope, if she's still alive."

XXX

Some six hours later, they were alerted by the pilot to watch for the skyline of a rapidly approaching Seattle. It was still full daylight, because they had been flying west.

"Oh, that's beautiful!" exclaimed Ashley Seaver.

"But look at how their tall buildings are so close to the ocean," mulled Reid. "If they ever have hurricanes out here, they're at tremendous risk of astronomical loss. And I wouldn't want to live on those San Juan islands if a storm came. But Sydney has buildings close to the water like that. So do Manhattan, Honolulu, and other big coastal cities. "

"I bet that you can see into Canada from that tower," opined "JJ" Jareau.

"Now that you mention Canada," teased Rossi, "I think they have mainly black bears here in Washington, although they have some big ones. But I bet an occasional grizzly comes down from British Columbia or across from Montana. We might see one of those grizzlies. Wouldn't that be swell?"

"Dave, shut up," pleaded Jareau. "You're just trying to scare me."

"Best eat your spinach and be afraid of nothing," razzed Morgan. "Hey, that works for Popeye. Seriously, I bet they have more black bears out here than they have black people."

"Will you two PLEASE quit talking about bears!" snapped JJ.

XXX

After landing, they were introduced to the Special Agent in Charge (SAC) of the Seattle field office, who expressed interest in the case. He had three vehicles ready for them: a long black Suburban and two shorter SUV's, all equipped with camping supplies and shotguns as well as compact Motorola radios for all team members.

"I'm also supplying you with a driver who is familiar with getting around up there in the mountains near Elk Pass," added the SAC, whose name was Phillip Gaines.

"That won't be necessary," said Hotchner, fearing that the real motive for this driver and guide was to plant a spy in their group. Either the SAC or Asst. Director Diefenbaker had probably thought of this idea. Like his predecessor, Strauss, Diefenbaker was a little suspicious of such independent units within the Bureau and liked to be assured that he knew what they were doing at any given time. In turn, they tried to avoid staid procedures and operate as they saw fit within general guidelines. Often, they adopted unconventional procedures if that was what it took to apprehend a serial killer.

"Look," said Gaines. "Asst. Director Diefenbaker asked me to be sure that you had an experienced guide. The roads up there can be confusing or even hazardous, especially if you have to go on remote dirt paths. The guy I'm loaning you is Bill Waters. He's a hunter, a hiker and a camper. He'll be good for technical advice, to keep you safe. Let him ride in the front vehicle, and he'll signal you if anything unusual is ahead. And he's not there just to snoop. We realize that you need some leeway to develop leads and talk to witnesses. The idea here is not to insist on rigorous enforcement of Bureau guidelines. We just want this murderer caught, and the sooner, the better. But you may need Bill to help smooth over any ruffled feathers with the local sheriff, if that becomes an issue. Bill is a good man and I told him to help, and not to conduct discrete espionage for anyone in the other Washington office; the D.C. one."

Hotchner saw where practicality lay and thanked Gaines for his consideration.

In view of the late hour, they checked into a motel and had dinner together as they planned. Everyone was relieved to find that Waters seemed like a good agent and he had entertaining accounts of local cases and was possessed of a wry wit that amused everyone.

They agreed to meet in the motel coffee shop at 8:00AM for breakfast, and then to begin their journey east, over a range of the Rockies.

No one reported any problems the next day except for Jareau, who complained of a nightmare involving a bear. Waters noticed that this amused Rossi and Morgan.

On this note, they boarded the vehicles and headed out of Seattle, for whatever experiences awaited them in the forests around Elk Pass. Bigfoot or not, the BAU was en route to solving some murders!

XXX

The road was long, although nothing eventful occurred. However, at one point, they paused to allow a bull elk to cross the road. The BAU team was impressed, most not having seen an elk except in a zoo and that long past. The magnificent animal inspired awe in all, and some fear in a couple.

"Are those things dangerous?" wondered Reid. "They're so big, and those antlers look like a man's dream of phallic significance projection."

Waters laughed. "Yeah, they can be formidable, especially during the rut. We have a sub-species of elk in Washington coastal forests, called the Roosevelt elk. They're even more imposing than most. They could stomp a car with those big hooves. Actually, moose have done just that. But unless you run across one on foot when it's really mad at a rival or just at the world, you probably won't be molested. The potential is sure there, and even ordinary deer sometimes attack people with grim results. But that's generally when some fool who's seen too much cute animal junk on TV tries to feed them or pet them. Some fools tolerate them around their houses where they eat the garden vegetables or other forage and then some ninny wants to play with them. That can end badly. Happens every year, in probably every US state. But elk seldom damage people. Most leave them alone.

"As for Agent Jareau's concern about bears… now, that's really valid. Generally, a black bear that sees you in the woods will run off. But some don't. And most truly predatory bear attacks are by black bears. I've studied this stuff for years and have examined many attacks, and if the goal is to stalk and eat you, a black bear is the more likely culprit. For one thing, they're in most states, while we have grizzlies in only a few. And a lot in Canada, of course, and Alaska has many. But grizzlies are rare here. Probably visitors from Canada. British Columbia is just north of the Washington border, after all, and a bear has no idea of international boundaries. By the way, British Columbia also has cougars and has more attacks than any other Canadian province or any US state. But we have cougars here, too, and attacks all over North America are increasing. Frankly, I'm as much or more concerned about cougars than I am about bears."

Jareau shuddered and she and Seaver looked thoughtfully at one another.

XXX

It was 3:00PM by the time they reached the sheriff's office in Elk Pass. The team was greeted by Undersheriff John Knowles, who explained that the sheriff was speaking that afternoon at the Masonic Lodge.

"He'll probably have to field some questions about these Bigfoot killings. I think he'll tell the Masons and the media that you're expected. We have to look as if we're doing something, and there's another girl gone missing, as of last night. Her parents are very concerned."

Hotchner grimaced. "I'd rather that our arrival wasn't publicized. We aren't here for publicity. We'd rather work quietly to assess the evidence and see what profile we can offer. If the offender knows that we're here, it could cause him to alter his behavior or even go to ground and hide until we leave. In a worst case scenario, it may even accelerate abductions and murders."

The Undersheriff shrugged. "It was a tradeoff, and word of your being here would probably leak out. Still, I see your point and I'm sorry that it may be a problem. Look, I want to show you to a room we've set up for your team and introduce you to a few of our key people. Then, we'll take you to lunch at one of the best restaurants in town at the sheriff's expense. Of course, we'll find a way to charge it off as a business expense, so please don't feel embarrassed or hesitant to accept. We'll get a private room there or a remote section so we can discuss the case. But I know that you haven't eaten and neither have several of us here in the office, and it'll be a good opportunity to get acquainted and share info. And I don't think you'll find a better steak in the state than what we'll get there."

"Sounds as if it might beat Federal Building cafeteria lasagna at that," observed Rossi.

Waters laughed. "There's no Federal Building here, anyway, and it's probably a plus. John here is telling the truth: the local ranchers raise some excellent beef. And I've worked with John a few times on other cases. We're in good hands if he says this place sets a good table. By the way, he's a hell of a trout fisherman. He put me in a place last year where I caught a steelhead that weighed 17 pounds. That's a good fish to be this far upriver from the coast. The browns, cutthroats, and rainbows here get to a good size, too, especially in Whittington Lake. "

"Man, I don't think we're gonna have time to fish. That's a hell of a way to waste time, anyway." Morgan was not impressed and he was miffed over the gaffe about their arrival being made public.

Knowles studied the black agent carefully. "Don't sell fishing short, Agent. The poet Omar Khayyam said that God does not detract from the sum of Man's days those hours that he spends in fishing. It's very therapeutic, and this is a stressful job. And I think that fly-fishing for trout is the ultimate expression of the angler's art. Not that any of us will be going fishing until this case is solved. But if you want to come back here later on vacation, I'd be happy to show you our better waters."

Rossi was amused. "A lawman and a philosopher. And a man who appreciates a good steak! I think I'm going to enjoy being here more than I expected."

"I think we'd better see this room and get set up," said Hotchner. "Then, we'll be honored to accept your hospitality. I'm sure that we're all hungry, and we need to be briefed on your latest abduction, if that's what it is."

"Uh, Mr. Knowles… do you have bears near town? Could a bear have been what killed any of these victims and made some imaginative people think it was a Bigfoot?" Jareau still had bears on her mind.

"Yes, ma'am, we've considered that. I'll be happy to discuss that angle at lunch and you're about to meet a biologist who can address that question with genuine expertise."

Seaver patted Jareau on the shoulder. "Don't worry, JJ. We'll save you if a bear breaks into the restaurant."

Knowles looked puzzled, and then smiled. "A little concerned about bears, Agent Jareau?"

Hotchner rolled his eyes and gestured to the undersheriff to lead them to their operations room. He noticed that Waters, Rossi, and Morgan grinned at Jareau, who stuck out her tongue at them. He decided to speak to certain agents about this bear thing. Fun was fun, but this might Embarrass the Bureau if it got out of hand. On the plus side, at least the local authorities were more than the relative bumpkins that he'd half expected. Knowles was the first lawman whom he'd heard quote Omar Khayyam or any other poet. And a good steak at the expense of the local sheriff did sound very attractive. It certainly beat having hamburgers and greasy fries somewhere, sticking to the _per diem_ meal allowance from the Bureau…

XXX

They were soon seated in a quite nice restaurant called Beefeater's. It was somewhat rustic in décor, with knotty pine walls adorned with mounted game heads and colorful Indian blankets. A cheery fireplace enhanced a stone wall in the bar. The Undersheriff called over the manager, whom he knew well, and asked if the group might have use of one of the two private rooms. "We have some outside consultants with us and need privacy to discuss a case," he explained.

The manager readily agreed and called over some bus boys and had them shove three tables together in the closer reserved room and assigned waitresses to attend the diners.

Everyone commented positively on the décor, other than Morgan and Jareau, neither of whom was fond of seeing the mounted heads of wild animals. The others could take or leave that and were aware that it was a frequent decorative theme in western states. They were, after all, far from the BAU's home grounds in the District of Columbia. Hotchner reminded himself that many people from the West detested the eastern seaboard states north of Virginia and he resolved to be diplomatic. Many here distrusted the Federal government, especially with a Democrat in the White House.

He smiled as he noticed Jareau look at a full mount of a bear rug on the wall and take a chair that left her back to that display. Seaver and Rossi grinned. A tall deputy also saw and looked puzzled. Hotchner had seen him looking at Seaver as they waited for tables and recalled that he had also done so back at the sheriff's office. He shrugged mentally. What the hell...Ashley Seaver drew male attention. It didn't mean that she wouldn't be accepted as a professional just because she attracted men. In fact, he might be able to use that to his advantage as they interfaced with local officers. He made a note to see if that was something that he could exploit.

As they were getting settled in and starting to talk, they were interrupted by the arrival of Sheriff Ford and another man, whom he introduced as a biologist with the US Fish and Wildlife Service.

"This is Dr. Christaan van Reenan," the sheriff related, "and he mostly deals with bears, cougars, and other large predatory animals, especially bears. But he's as qualified as anyone we've got when it comes to knowing about Bigfoot. He's read most of the literature about the species and he knows pongids and other big apes well enough to tell if he's looking at their fur or footprints. Maybe we'd better hear from Chris before we get into the details of these deaths. Chris? You're on stage!"

But van Reenan was delayed by the arrival of the waitress who took his and Grant Ford's orders: steaks, potatoes ,and broccoli with garden salads for both men. Ford ordered coffee, and van Reenan agreed.

That accomplished, Jareau asked what a pongid was. "Is it some kind of ape?"

"Yes, quite. Specifically, it just means gorillas. But I have the ability to identify other great apes, and none has shown enough similarity with the presumed Bigfoot or Sasquatch to be confused. The sole hair attributed to this creature of which I'm aware was submitted to the Army CID lab many years ago, and they found no match to any known animal. Does that confirm that it was from a Sasquatch? It only means that they were unable to identify what it was. Might it have been from Bigfoot? Ja, but who knows? Without more Bigfoot-confirmed hairs, who can say? But in this case, we have no hairs to process."

Rossi stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Is there really anything at all to suggest involvement of a Bigfoot other than some alleged tracks? Can you determine if those were fake? I'd certainly think so."

The scientist looked speculatively at the agent and replied, "Well, in the main, you are correct. Some of the tracks we've seen are from the same set of feet, and frankly, I think they're phony. I can go into greater detail if you like, although that would probably bore anyone but a scientist. What probably will interest you is that the tracks do show sophistication. Someone knows the approximate dimensions and weight distribution likely for such an animal, probably standing from eight to nine feet tall and weighing some 350 pounds, maybe more. That's significant in itself, for the public would muff it if they tried to guess such things. A movie made about a Bigfoot in a southern state showed such footprints and a friend of mine who has a mate who saw the tracks in the bean field there said that they appeared to be faked for the movie. Too long and narrow, with just three toes. That isn't proof that the animal didn't leave tracks, just that the ones for the film were likely bogus. And there were eyewitness accounts and other data that lead me to believe that that alleged 'monster' may well be real. One chap even went to hospital in Texarkana for injuries that he swore it inflicted on him!"

"You look like you're about to reveal something more spectacular," said Hotchner. "Am I right?

The scientist nodded. "There were what I believe may be authentic tracks by three of your victims."

He turned to Knowles and said, "John, did you bring those files I asked for?"

The Undersheriff nodded and pulled over an empty chair from the next table. He set his briefcase on it and took out a thick manila envelope of 8X10-inch color photos. They were especially detailed and when he handed them to Hotchner with a request to pass them around and back to him, everyone was impressed.

"Can't we get this on our tablets?" asked Reid. "We may need to refer to them again if we see anything similar in future."

Knowles nodded. "Sure, when we come into the office tomorrow, we can have a briefing and upload any files that you don't have yet. We're adding more in the morning, and I'll make sure that those include these footprints. Now, Chris, maybe you'd better tell our friends what to look for there and why those prints are so important."

"Certainly," said the big scientist. "Apart from the overall appearance, which is the right size and the right shape to support a large pongid-like creature that stands erect, you'll notice the sort of markings like one finds in fingerprinting. American birth certificates include the infant's footprints because each is unique to a particular neonate and remains so as that person ages. They're a positive source of ID. You've got the photos just now, Agent Rossi. Do you see what I mean? Those lines and whorls are imprinted in the clay by the river bank near where the body of that poor Greek chap was found, Stavros by name. The imprints are very detailed and they are unique to a particular Sasquatch, I'm sure. Look carefully at those and then look at the tracks left near Miss Jenner's corpse. You'll see not only much the same clarity, but that the markings are different! That means that we are dealing with at least two Sasquatches or Bigfoots, Bigfeet, whatever.

"The crucial thing to note is, " he continued, "that these lines and whorls that appear on real feet are virtually impossible to fake. It would require a specialized scientist who knew just what to try to present, and even he would find no way that I can think of of generating the markings and impressing them into the ground to look as if they were natural. Even the way the foot muscles are deployed suits the exact terrain and what those muscles would be doing in that situation. To create two such sets of footprints is all but unthinkable!"

"What about some sort of photo duplicating process?" wondered Rossi. "Could they paste a printout on fake feet and depress the ground with those where the prints would show?"

"Pretty unlikely, I should think," spoke Senior Deputy Peter Blacklaws. "We thought of that in a sort of brainstorming session, trying to conjure up any means by which those tracks could be fakes. We know that computerized machines can even make guns now to a set of blueprints, but those are fairly rare and are quite expensive. That one would be in the hands of anyone wanting to make such fake Bigfoot tracks and having the expertise to get the shape of the feet right for the load bearing is unlikely. Those aren't just very large human-like prints. The arch and the proportion of the heel width and the like and the balls of the feet, etc. are just not proportional to what a human that size would display. These are clearly a different species."

"How do you know so much about tracks, Deputy?" demanded Morgan. "You a big hunter and tracker or something? Or do you have scientific training like the good doctor here?" He nodded toward van Reenan, who leaned back a bit and observed the black agent through narrowed eyes.

Blacklaws seemed surprised. But he replied calmly, "In fact, yes, I do hunt and am a serious amateur naturalist and a student of Bigfoot and other cryptozoological animals. Those that may be myths…or not. I'm losing faith in Nessie, the Loch Ness plesiosaur and the Lake Champlain equivalent. And I think the Nandi bear was quite probably a heavily-built hyena seen in poor light by impressionable people, black and white. That was in colonial Kenya, from around the time of World War I and for a few decades after. No bears are found in Africa, so it would be quite remarkable for there to be this one in the Nandi tribal lands. Some sightings may have involved especially stocky baboons.

"And I rather fancy that at least some witnesses had had a bellyful of _pombe_, the native beer. Same for the few European witnesses, whom one would normally accord more respect, as the natives tend to be easily impressed and be tellers of tall tales. Even now, many believe in witchcraft.

"Anyway, I come from a long line of hunters and bush trekkers. My great grandfather was the legendary Geoffrey Blacklaws, a white hunter, author, and rancher in Kenya in the 1920's until he and the rest of the family moved to South Africa following Kenyan independence in 1962. His nippers, including my dad, also became professional hunters and an uncle was a game ranger. I grew up studying animals and when I immigrated to the USA, I kept it up here. I can almost always recognize any of our local fauna and their tracks. And Chris here is one of my best friends. We spend a lot of time in the woods, hunting, fishing, even just birdwatching. He and other biologists he works with and our local game warden have taught me a lot. And I've read a bunch about Bigfoot, which I think may just be real, perhaps in several species ranging from the Himalayas to the eastern USA. Some probably crossed over the onetime sea bridge between Asia and the American continent in prehistoric times, as did elk and other animals. Some bears were native here, but I think the big brown or grizzly bears may have come over that Bering Sea Bridge. The Indians often have tribal myths about Bigfoot that go back for hundreds of years."

Morgan shook his head. "Man, I can't believe I'm hearing this. So, you're gonna tell us that your serial killer is a big mythical monkey? Where'd you study law enforcement? The Discovery Channel? _Animal Planet_?"

"In fact, no," said the sheriff, wanting to steer off a confrontation between Morgan and the handsome Senior Deputy. He'd noticed that Morgan had been giving Blacklaws some evil stares and thought it had something to do with either his accent or with that blonde FBI agent Seaver, at whom Peter kept glancing. She had looked back and had once blushed and lowered her eyes and blushed a little more. She'd also played with her hair a little when she knew that Blacklaws was looking.

"As I was saying," Ford continued, "we have evidence from the Medical Examiner that the homicides were in all likelihood committed by humans, and he'll address that when you see him at the morgue tomorrow. We have pictures here, filed in your tablets. But seeing the actual damage may offer a more refined view; trip some understanding that seeing the photo may not. The bodies haven't been released for burial yet, although the families are bugging me to do that. After you view them, I'm going to release all but two that have particular damage that the ME will point out. I'll release them soon, too, if we can't learn more from them. I do respect the grief of the survivors and they want to hold the funerals. So be it: but I want your team to see them first, Agent Hotchner.

"By the way, do we need to be formal? You can call me Grant if I can call you Aaron. Is everyone comfortable with that?"

Hotchner thought rapidly. He was somewhat formal and was reluctant to be on too familiar terms with local officers. But this sheriff was a pal of Diefenbaker's and he needed cooperation. And the Undersheriff and this Blacklaws fellow seemed smart and helpful. They weren't in a pissing contest to see if they could outguess the BAU, nor were they resentful of the Federal presence. Actually, they seemed friendly and inquisitive. And he had noticed that Rossi's eyes had lit up when they were talking about coming back while on vacation, to fish. It wouldn't hurt to play along and forge better relations in case they or Waters needed to interact with this county again. So, he said that, yes, first names were acceptable if his team agreed.

The agents looked at one another and nodded, Morgan somewhat hesitantly, looking again at Blacklaws. He'd didn't like the man's accent, he didn't like where he'd come from, and he knew another candidate for alpha male status and accomplished ladies' man when he saw one. Blacklaws pricked his vanity, and he felt some racial resentment, too.

Jareau decided to ask what they'd all been wondering about. "Are you and Peter from South Africa, then, Chris? How long have you been here? And is English your first language? You speak it well, but with some foreign phrasing. And that accent… It isn't British and it isn't like Australian, either. But the way you say things seems mostly British?"

The tall biologist nodded. "Yes, Peter and I are from South Africa. I was born in Johannesburg. Our accents differ some because I'm Afrikaans-speaking; for me, English is my second language, although I learned it from an early age. His ancestors began landing in the 1820's, and were the cause of the Great Trek, when my people took ox-drawn wagons over the Drakensberg Range to found the Transvaal Republic and the Orange Free State. We resented the English desire to control too much. Actually we Afrikaaner/Boer people were in some ways much like your own pioneers who trekked west in similar wagons. By the by, 'Boer' just means 'farmer.' We now work in the usual array of occupations, so it's not terribly accurate.

"Oh: I forgot to note that my family arrived in South Africa in 1728. Cape Town was founded by the Dutch in 1652, not long after your own Puritans or Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. Few Americans grasp that Europeans settled there that far back. Apart from the Dutch, on whose language Afrikaans is based, a lot of French Protestants arrived after 1685, when the Edict of Nantes was withdrawn. That left France an unhealthy place for non-Catholics. There were also some German settlers who were assimilated into the Dutch and French elements.

"Peter was raised in the Eastern Cape and later, near Cape Town. He was born in Port Elizabeth, in what's now called Kwa-Zulu/Natal. He was trained as a winemaker, apart from his hunting jaunts. In fact, his family has a winery here in Washington, where he worked until getting US citizenship and becoming a copper.

"I suppose that sums us up in a nutshell. But I'm not the first Afrikaaner whom you've seen. The Academy Award winning actress Charlize Theron is one, although she now has a US accent, the better to get film roles. The CBS News Chief Foreign Correspondent, Lara Logan, is South African, from Durban. Candice Swanepoel, a Victoria's Secret model and her fellow Angel, Behati Prinsloo, are also of that lineage, although Prinsloo's family now lives in neighboring Namibia. I quite like Candice's accent. If you haven't seen her on TV talk shows, she's in many videos and interviews on YouTube. Peter keeps hoping that she'll sign autographs at the VS store here. I think he has a crush on several of those models." Van Reenan's eyes twinkled as he watched his friend flush a little as they all laughed.

Jareau was intrigued. "I can't say that I know many of their models' names, but are you saying that they have a shop in Elk Pass? What's the population here?

Grant Ford answered. "Yes, my wife and daughter shop there. And it's in a mall that's the primary one for miles around. Most of our stores are in those strip malls or in rustic sort of parks. Overall population here in town is some 14,000, and the colleges and service facilities, car repairmen, etc. are here in Elk Pass. A lot of shoppers and motel guests are transitory. They live in surrounding areas, some with just homesteads. And yes, that does somewhat make it hard for us to define suspects. There are a lot of people to keep track of, and so far, none isolated as having been involved with the victims. The killers may be some common friend of a few or they may all be stranger murders, the hardest to solve."

That left them feeling sober and Rossi was glad when the waitress offered pie or cake.

"Better take her up on it, "advised Waters. "This place bakes all their own desserts and they're infinitely better than what you get in chain restaurants."

Talk turned to fishing; the better to dispel the solemn attitude after crime scene photos had been passed around on their tablets. The women expressed delight with their fruit tarts: delicious, but not very fattening.

Ashley Seaver made a point of asking Blacklaws about dry flies for trout. "The only one I remember is the Royal Coachman," she admitted. "It's so pretty with those nice red and green colors. Almost a Christmas fly."

The senior deputy regaled her with information about the matter, in which the other men soon joined. Hotchner and Reid pretended to participate, but kept much of their attention on the case notes in their tablets. One other was not intrigued. Derek Morgan sulked and was seen to glare several times at both of the former South Africans, especially at Peter Blacklaws. Hotchner resolved to counsel him about projecting a hostile attitude. He wasn't sure if race was the issue or if something more personal about the handsome deputy was the cause. But he was determined to nip whatever was brewing in the bud, lest it Embarrass the Bureau, a cardinal sin for agents.

XXX

Conversation continued, some actually case-related, which the sheriff joked justified him finding a way to write off the cost of the meal on his budget. Then Seaver excused herself to visit the ladies' room and a couple of minutes later, Blacklaws followed.

Jareau raised her eyebrows and she and Reid exchanged a glance, and then both noted that Morgan was sulking, almost glowering, and kept looking at Blacklaws's receding back. Something was evidently bothering him about one or both of the former South Africans, and it showed.

When Seaver came out of the restroom and started down the short hallway that led to the main dining room, she found Blacklaws coming the same way. He looked surprised and said, "Fancy meeting you here. But I think we need to arrange a new meeting place. If we keep this up, people will talk." He smiled to show that he was teasing.

Seaver gave him a cool look, trying to avoid seeming too amused. "Are you flirting with me, Deputy?"

"Lord, I hope so," he replied. "I'm doing my best to. Look, are you married or engaged or anything awful like that? Or would you like to meet me for a drink and conversation later tonight or tomorrow? I've enjoyed explaining trout flies to you and maybe we can get better acquainted and find other common interests. We can even discuss the case, but I'd like to get to know you more in general. Or am I presuming overmuch on too short an acquaintance, to ask you out, I mean?"

She studied him carefully although she'd been looking furtively at him at the table. He did look good: a bit over six feet tall, dark hair with a closely trimmed mustache. He was in uniform, in a khaki shirt and dark green trousers with a wide gold stripe down the side. His shoulder tabs were gold, possibly meaning that he worked out of the sheriff's office in a supervisory role. Other deputies she'd noticed here wore red or green tabs, probably indicative of Traffic and Patrol. His gun belt was black leather, basketweave stamped. The sidearm was a Beretta M-92FS, a 9mm. Black Wellington boots completed the uniform, and she noted that they and the gun belt were nicely polished and seemed to be of high quality.

"Do you often ask out visiting FBI agents?" she wondered, trying to buy time while she decided how to respond to his invitation.

"We don't actually see a lot of you," he responded. "Waters and a few others have been in before and made friends among us on the force. And, yes I've taken Bill to lunch a couple of times, but he's a guy. I'm not asking you out primarily to discuss the FBI. In case you haven't checked a mirror lately, you're visually more impressive than Bill Waters or the other agents from the Seattle or Spokane offices. And I like you, the sound of your voice, and the way you ask questions. If you'll be here awhile, I thought we might enjoy getting together and seeing a film or something. But if I'm being presumptive, forgive me. I just figured that if I didn't ask soon, some other deputy might beat me to it. You do tend to draw the male eye…"

"Let me think about this," Seaver said. "Have you got a card with your phone number? Agent Hotchner usually keeps us together while we're working a case, but I am officially off duty at night, unless there's a real need to be on call. Maybe we can talk on the phone and decide on something? Unless Candice Swanepoel comes to town, in which case, I guess you'd be after her to go out instead of me?" She smiled, amused at his blush.

"If she makes a visit to the VS shop here, I'd like to say hello and get her autograph; Chris told the truth about that. But I doubt that internationally famous models date cops much. And the newspaper hasn't run any ads about her visiting anytime soon. Anyway, you're real and she's sort of a fantasy figure. Fact is, I am impressed with you, and I might just date you instead of Candice if I ever had that choice. We'd probably have more in common. Oh: yes, I do have some cards. Let me fumble one out of my ID case." And he did. He drew a gold Cross ballpoint pen and wrote his home number on the back.

Seaver took the card and read it quickly. "Senior Deputy, it says. I didn't quite catch what you do here. Are you a patrol supervisor?"

"No," Blacklaws demurred. "I'm primarily one of our investigators. I don't always work in uniform, but do also patrol when needed and I work a desk at headquarters when not investigating cases. I'm on desk duty this week, except when I need to be helping your lot from the Bureau. The Sheriff asked that I interface with your team and see that you get around to wherever you need to go and perform introductions where that may be helpful. I know the area well and can introduce you to merchants, college administrators, and the like. And if we need to go out into the woods to examine a crime scene, I'll let you know what to bring. You don't want to get careless out there amidst Mother Nature. She can be a cruel parent if you don't know what you're doing, and I sense that your team mostly works in cities, not out in the bush? Mind you, Agent Jareau is probably overreacting to the bear threat, but I wouldn't write it off. We really do have bears here, and cougars, and rattlesnakes. But they seldom menace people. You just need to be prepared on the rare occasions when it happens.

"I say, have you actually got even the basic survival items, like a knife and a compass; waterproofed matches, that sort of thing? I can loan you a few things if we're together, but if many of you will need to go out in the forest, we need to swing by a store and see that everyone has the essential items, just in case they get lost or a storm comes."

"You have a point, "admitted Seaver. "Look, why don't I call you later tonight and you can tell me what I'd need and maybe we can shop for it in case it looks like we'd be going forth into the primeval wilderness? I guess that you're an expert? I have to say, I never before said that I'd call a guy and talk about knives and matches before a first date. In my job, we're normally wary of men who carry matches. They may be arsonists!" She smiled to put him at ease.

"That's not the sort of fire that I'm hoping to start with you," he teased back. "Seriously, please do call. I think we could be friends, and you clearly need a chap to help you understand trout flies. Who knows? If I impress you enough, you may come back and actually go fishing with me. Or something. I sense that I do want to know you better and it isn't all physical."

She grinned. "But some is physical?"

He smiled and said, "Oh, lord, yes. Don't be too jealous of those models. You turn male heads quite well yourself, Special Agent Seaver. The FBI ought to use pictures of you on recruiting posters. There'd be no shortage of men applying! By the way, I'm Peter if you're Ashley."

She looked frankly into his face, decided that she liked what she saw there and flushed slightly. "Okay, Peter and Ashley it is."

They looked around as Rossi and Jareau walked up. "Is everything all right?" asked the older agent.

"Yes, of course," answered Blacklaws. "We were just discussing interagency cooperation. I look forward to working with your team."

And Seaver and Blacklaws walked out to the table before they could be asked any more probing questions about their delay in returning sooner.

XXX

As the group left, the sheriff told them where to find a good motel and they parted, agreeing to meet at the sheriff's office the next morning.

As the agents entered their SUV's, Hotchner took Morgan aside and asked what bothered him about van Reenan and Blacklaws.

"Hotch, I know a little about South Africa, at least from a black man's perspective. Remember _apartheid,_ their system of segregation? I don't hold with that, and these guys probably came here to keep from living under black rule now that things have changed. They're probably both racists. And that Blacklaws guy thinks he's God's gift to women."

Rossi laughed. "And you don't think you are? Morgan, you think you're Mr. Superstud. You just don't like a rival, especially if he's white."

Morgan spun around and snapped," I told you, that guy is a racist. And I don't like how he looks at Seaver. He's gonna make a play for her: wait and see!"


	2. Chapter 2

Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings, Chapter Two

Hotchner rolled his eyes. "Morgan, they may or may not be racists. I doubt if all white South Africans are, and these men have lived here for years. They're US citizens now. Don't approach them with a chip on your shoulder and we'll probably get along fine. I'll try to keep you away from them so you don't have to let this feeling fester or have to deal with them.

"As for Seaver, she's a big girl. If she needs help in dealing with Blacklaws, I'm sure that she'll ask. "He looked at Jareau and waved her over.

"JJ, we're going to be renting rooms with two agents per room. You and Ashley are the only women, so you'll share a room. Morgan is concerned that Deputy Blacklaws may stalk her. Will you keep an eye on her and let me know if he becomes a problem?"

Jareau was amused. "Sure, Hotch. But I kind of think that she's looking forward to seeing him again. I noticed them looking at each other, and they took awhile getting back from the restrooms and she looked back at him and sort of blushed. I think she likes him. I'll try to pry a little and see what's going on there, if anything. He is really handsome and he seems very witty. And he's a hunter. Maybe he'll protect us all from bears!" She laughed.

"Very funny," groused Morgan. "I'm just saying…"

"I get the idea," Hotchner replied. "Lets' all be careful and look out for one another. As usual. Now, we'd better get to that motel and hope they have enough rooms for the whole team. Grant Ford said that he warned them to expect us, and they said they'd try to place us all in one hallway. JJ, if you get a room with a bear rug on the wall, just tell me and we'll swap rooms." He smiled at her reaction. The others laughed.

"Okay, have your fun," JJ responded. But she didn't seem bitter. "Maybe if there is a bear rug, Ashley and I can call Peter and he'll come watch over us. If I was single, I might just try something to bring him over. Maybe fabricate a bear sighting: that should do it."

Morgan made a dismissive gesture with his hand and turned to enter a vehicle. "You girls had better watch out," he warned. "That Blacklaws guy will love you and leave you and cut a new notch on his bedpost. Don't say that I didn't tell you."


	3. Chapter 3

Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings, Chapter 3

At the motel, the team talked briefly and was dismissed for the night. Seaver and Jareau watched TV for a half hour, talking as they drank Sprites from the machine in the hall.

"So, are you gonna call him?" teased Jareau.

Ashley pretended to be surprised. "Call who?"

Jareau looked at her, a twinkle in her eye. "He is kind of cute and sort of masterful, I guess, or protective and enticing. I bet he gets a lot of girls. Are you sure that you want to be one?

Seaver blushed. "I think he sees me as an individual. And if he's just looking to carve another notch on his bedpost, I think I'll spot that pretty quickly. Yeah, I think I may call him. He gave me his home number."

"Well, he's hardly going to want to talk to you on his official line, which may be recorded."

Seaver winced. "How true! Look, are you about to take a shower? Long enough that I can make a private call while you're in there?" She flushed at her companion's wry grin.

"Okay, I can take a hint. I'm nothing if not a romantic. Just don't get burned, Ashley. Morgan may be right about him."

Seaver rolled her eyes. "Don't repeat this, JJ, but I'm not a fan of Agent Morgan. I can work with him and I guess he usually means well, but he's a worse hotshot than Peter probably is, and he does have a racial chip on his shoulder, in my opinion. Maybe not always, but in this case, yes."

Jareau shrugged, undressed (the TV show was boring, anyway), and went to the shower.

Even before she heard the water come on, Seaver was dialing Blacklaws's phone. He answered on the third ring. When she heard his voice, a little thrill went through Ashley's veins and she said, "Guess who this is? And it isn't Candice or Doutzen or any of their coworkers."

He chuckled. "Probably could be, if you applied there. Or, maybe they'd reject you as having too good a figure. Those models are rather skinny. Anyway, how are you? I was hoping that you'd call. I say, are we in private?

Assured that they were, the two began an exploratory study of their backgrounds and personalities, as people do when a relationship begins, or may.

XXX

Down the hall, Rossi knocked on Hotchner's door. When it opened, he lifted a bottle of Scotch and asked "Nightcap? And maybe a brief conference?"

Hotchner nodded and opened the door wider to admit his friend. "I'll get us some glasses."

Sitting with Mr. Dewar's amber liquid and a splash of water in their glasses, they drank a toast to success in their mission and then Hotchner asked, "What's on your mind, Dave?"

They discussed the case so far, agreed that it was going better than expected and that they liked the local officers. They addressed the matter of Derek Morgan's pique, too, and Hotchner shrugged and said, "I'll talk to him once more if need be, and if that doesn't work and he becomes a problem, he can go back to Quantico and work on some other case. That would look bad for his career and I think he'll shape up. It shouldn't be a problem to keep him away from the guys he doesn't like here. We're all adults. I think we can solve our problems. Do you know who I feel sorry for? Those missing girls. I just hope they're still alive and that we find them in time."

Rossi nodded and lifted his glass. "Yeah, I'll drink to that!"

_Be advised that our next scene introduces the kidnapped girls. It may be a little dark for the very shy or squeamish. But they're alive. Can they remain so?_


	4. Chapter 4

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Four

_Note: This is a Mature story. Just a reminder._

Courtney Cassidy groaned and shook her head. She was groggy, but registered faintly that another girl's voice was calling her name. It took awhile for the words to register, as her consciousness cleared.

"Go away," she murmured, coiling into a fetal position. She gradually realized that she was restrained and shook her head to clear it as the voice called again.

"Courtney, damn it, wake up! How much of that drug did they give you?!"

Courtney registered what the voice was saying now and she sat up looking around, trying to take in her surroundings. She tried to lift her hands to her throbbing head and realized that she was handcuffed, the cuffs fastened to a chain around her waist. It took only a brief moment after that for her to wake fully and also register that she was nude and that her ankles were also chained and that there was a chain from the center link in the ankle chain, connected to a large iron ring in a cement floor! She was in a cell with fenced walls, the sort of thing that one might find in industrial fencing, with metal posts supporting strong wire fencing. The fence reached to the ceiling of her room, a height of about eight feet. There were no windows, and there was a solid wall behind her and on one side. The fence ran in front and on one side and she noticed now that there was a section of fence that provided a partition between her and another girl also confined here. The solid wall was again in place on the far side of that girl, and each had a mattress and a cheap blanket. There were no clothes in sight; the other girl being as bare as she was. She grasped that they wore earrings about the time that she was able to distinguish what the other girl was saying.

"Courtney! Can you understand me? This is Melissa Winters! We were in high school together? Can you hear me? Dammit, wake up! They gave me drugs when I was brought here, too, but it took me only maybe ten minutes to recover once I opened my eyes. Are you okay? Answer me! I see you moving."

Courtney shook her head and focused on the other girl, thinking what she'd said and the name she'd given. "Yeah, okay, Melissa. We were cheerleaders together, but you were a grade behind me. You want to be an actress someday. I remember now. Where the hell are we? What's happening, and where are our clothes?"

Melissa sighed in relief. "Okay, I'll tell you everything, but please sit up and try to listen. The men who took us are going to be back in here soon to take me for a walk, or so they promised. They let me go outside a time or two a day if no one is around. They chain me differently and I have to wear a round ball gag thing and a blindfold, but I can feel the sun and breathe fresh air. They said when they brought you in that you can take a walk, too, beginning tomorrow, if you please them."

Courtney stared at the other girl, remembering her face now. Yeah, okay, Melissa, the wannabe actress. Her head was clearing rapidly now, and she wanted answers.

"Where are we and who has us? The news said that you went missing about a week ago. The cops said there was no way to tell if you were kidnapped, were lost in the woods, or were just a runaway. What on earth is going on here?"

"Okay," repeated Melissa. "Just listen and ask questions after I brief you. I can tell you most of it. First, I was kidnapped on my way to the library. I graduated the year after you did and I'm in junior college now. I'm like, a Drama major, okay? But taking all the usual classes required for most degrees. Whatever. Anyway, these guys, two of them, just walked out from between other cars and turned me around and one tied my wrists behind me with cord while the other held me with a hand over my mouth. Then one stuck a needle in my arm, telling me to hold still so I wouldn't get hurt by either them or the needle. They said that it'd put me to sleep, whatever drug they gave me. It did, and I woke up here, naked like we are now, and chained this way.

"I was left alone until they were sure I was awake, I guess. Then they came in and made me kneel in front of them and told me that I was a prisoner and that if I wanted to live, I had to obey them. They told me that I could be a live slave or a dead brat. That's what they said. I could hardly believe my ears and I told them off, big-time. I mean I come from a good family. I was a cheerleader and I'm popular on campus. Even my teachers like me, except for old Mrs. Ryan and I think she hates my guts because I'm young and cute, like she does other girls I could name. My dad is a doctor! Mom is in the social register. We host parties for important people. Who were they to just grab me off the street and strip me and make these threats? What the hell did they mean by that slave stuff? This isn't ancient Rome or modern Arabia or wherever they still keep girls like that! "

"So what's the deal now?" demanded Courtney. "What are they going to do with us? Sell us in the Middle East? To some drug lord? You've been here a week? What have you learned? What do they make you do?"

Melissa blushed scarlet. "Courtney, this isn't going to please you, but you're going to find out and they told me to tell you, anyway, so they'd have to answer fewer questions.

"I've had to, uh, please them, doing what they said. I refused at first. See that ring hanging from the ceiling above you? There's one in my section of this cell, too. Well, they tied my wrists up there and whipped me until I thought I couldn't scream any louder or longer. They told me to scream all I liked, because no one was going to hear me. We're somewhere pretty remote. That's why they let me out in the sun sometimes. No one's going to see, right? Anyway, that whip stings like a swarm of hornets. It doesn't leave marks on you for long. They told me that they don't want to mark girls; just make them comply. And the louder I screamed, well, they started laughing. They enjoyed it; thought it was funny!

"You may as well know now that they said that you're going to be whipped, too, at least once, to let you see that they can do it and have you experience what it feels like. And they have this hole in the floor in another room. It's all icky and they say that rats may be able to get in there through the sewer, maybe even snakes. They locked me down there; all curled up in that confined space with the steel grille locked above my head. I was in there for almost three hours and when they came back to tell me that I was going to be whipped again and then put back in that horrid little cramped space for the rest of the night…I told them that I'd do what they wanted; not to hurt me or abuse me anymore. I was terrified, okay? Before you judge me, wait and see how you feel after they do that stuff to you! And they had worse, stuff that we can talk about later. But I bet you aren't any better than me or most girls. You'll do what they want, too. Don't judge me until you meet them. These guys are 'way scary. But if you do what they want, they don't hurt you and if you perform what they want well enough, you get a piece of chocolate or a soda or some fruit, things like that."

"What if they don't like the way you do something?" asked Courtney, dreading the answer. "And what do they want you to do?"

Melissa blushed again and walked over to the partition between them, the limit of the chains on her feet. "Courtney, this is going to be awful, but it's what we have to do. They told me that if I didn't obey soon, they'd kill me and take another girl. I think they mean it. You'll be in the same boat, I'm sure."

Courtney felt hollow dread in her stomach. "Just what do they want? Sex, I guess?"

Melissa looked down and shrugged. "Yeah, like that was really hard to guess, right? But they like other things. They made me dance for them, too. They knew that I was a cheerleader and that I danced in the senior class musical review. By the way, you remember the scandal when the teachers found out about what Jennifer Fowler promised the football team if they beat Lakeville High? " Jennifer had been a cheerleader with the two captives.

Courtney grimaced and rolled her eyes. "When she told them they'd all get blow jobs from her and Mary Snider? Yeah, Coach Johnson walked in unexpectedly and caught both girls with their clothes off and on their knees in the locker room. They nearly got expelled and so did several players. So? Oh, wait: are you telling me that these guys…"

"Yeah, " blushed Melissa. "We could sure use Jen and Mary here. They'd be a real hit with our captors. Get the picture? Have you ever given a guy one of those? I did it a few times with two guys I dated, but I can't say that I was as experienced as Jen and Mary had the reputation of being. And these bullies make sure that you do it really well, with all sorts of suggestions about just how they want that. If not…" She looked at the ring hanging from the ceiling.

Courtney shuddered. "They whip you?"

Melissa nodded. "Oh, Courtney, I hate that they took you, too. But I'm glad to have company. I just hope we satisfy them. I think they're the creeps who killed those people in the news, the ones where some people think a Bigfoot did it. I've been afraid to ask, but they can be really mean if you try to refuse them whatever they tell you to do. My advice is to give them any thrills they demand and hope they go easy on us. Oh: This is really bad, too. They told me to tell you that if you don't do what they order, we'll both be punished. Not just you. I hate that. But please, for my sake, do what they want. You're going to have to, anyway. They did me by force the first two times. Then, I was tired of that pit in the floor and the whip and their threats and I haven't resisted. We need to keep them happy. I'm truly frightened, the worst I've ever been. Oh: I hope you aren't a virgin? If this had been my first time, it'd probably have been even more traumatic. But I did it with my prom date and a few times later, too "

Courtney replied, "I'm not quite a virgin, I'm afraid, but I'm not the class whore, either. I haven't done it much, so don't believe anything you hear about me because of what I do, my job, I mean. Don't read too much into it. But I wonder if they took me because of where I work."

The blonde girl looked at her curiously. "So, what do you do? I haven't seen you for over a year. I work at an ice cream store."

The Cassidy girl shuffled her chained ankles and cleared her throat. "I, uh, well; I kind of dance three nights a week at Harry's Boobalicious club. Like, I'm a topless dancer. And I give lap dances, too. But I don't screw anybody but guys I really like, mainly one from school. That's how I'm putting myself through college and moving away from home soon, I hope. And the money is pretty good, most nights, especially when tourists or hunters are in town. Same for conventions. But like I said, don't judge me for my job. Several of the girls there are in college. We're not the sluts that some assume that we are."

"Okay," said her new friend. "That's cool, I guess, and if we dance for these horse's rears, it may buy us some time if they maybe are thinking of killing us and moving on."

They heard a rattle at the door at the top of the stairs that led out of the room. A lock turned as keys jingled.

Melissa hissed, "Look out. Here they come. Go kneel on your mattress. Watch how I do it. Please don't do anything to upset them. They're probably going to give you a warm welcome, anyway."

Scared speechless, Courtney did as told, trying to present herself well to whoever came down those stairs. She glanced at her cellmate and tried to mimic the seductive, submissive, open-thighed kneel that she saw there. She hoped desperately that someone had seen something when she was captured and that the police were looking for them now. But she doubted it. Despair rose in her and she began to shiver. She realized with disgust that she was crying. Why me; why us? her mind silently screamed.


	5. Chapter 5

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Five

Derek Morgan was up early the next morning, still chafed by the memory of the men whom he disliked. He took out his cell phone and called Penelope Garcia. She was in the Eastern time zone, so had been at work for over an hour before her phone rang.

"Hey, Baby Girl," he teased. "How about doing me a favor and looking up some personal info on some deputies here? This is just for me right now, so don't tell Hotch or anyone else. I just need to know if these guys have any bad stuff on their records before we work with them."

"It shall be as requested, O Great Black Elephant," she replied. She was quite unaware that she had in fact used one of the traditional Zulu chiefs' praise names. Blacklaws and van Reenan would have laughed at this, had they overheard. "Tell me of your adventures in the rustic wilds, chocolate dream of all womankind. Have any bears chased JJ yet?"

"Not yet, but the restaurant we went to has some bear rugs and elk and deer heads on the walls. Pretty gross if you ask me, but they didn't, of course. I want to know more about the sheriff here; partly because I don't see any black deputies and I think the other guys I want to check on may be racists. Maybe Ford is, too. But we've done okay so far. We're just getting started; the real work like interviewing victims' families begins today. But I think this Blacklaws jerk I'm going to ask you to investigate may be after Ashley. I'm more worried about him than bears. I mean, those woods are big and there can't be all that many bears, even in Washington state. We probably won't even leave town unless they find another body out in the sticks."

Garcia asked about Bigfoot and was told that this was a ruse used by human killers. "We just have to figure out who," explained Morgan. "That South African biologist guy and his cop pal think there may really be Bigfoots, but even they doubt that one is killing these poor people out here. How are things back in civilization, at Quantico?"

"Laid back and cool," she answered. "I was so stoked by not having Hotch to watch the time that I lingered over cereal and cantaloupe in the cafeteria on break. I'm just catching up on some routine work. Send me some useful questions and I can probably find a way to catch your malfeasant fugitives."

He agreed to ask more questions as soon as any leads developed and they rang off after he told Garcia who he wanted information about. Morgan checked the time and headed for the shower. He needed to meet the team at Hotch's room in an hour and they'd drive to an IHOP (International House of Pancakes) for breakfast, the other restaurant they'd used not opening until lunch. He wondered who he'd be talking to today, probing for any clues as to how someone's loved one had been selected to die...

XXX

Meanwhile, the captive girls had compared notes. As expected, their oppressors had come for Melissa and she'd gotten her outside walk the previous afternoon. They'd uncuffed her wrists before she left her cell and recuffed them behind her and again locked them to her waist chain. They did this before unchaining her leg irons from the ring in the floor. They then made her open her mouth widely and applied a large black ball gag, buckling the leather strap behind her head. Next came a padded leather blindfold that also buckled. Finally, they locked a lighter chain leash on the ring to the black leather collar that she wore on her throat.

Both men wore black cloth hoods to hide their faces. And each was dressed in black, with black boots and they wore pistols. One had a foot long stiff leather strap in his hand and he slapped Melissa across the butt with it and laughed as she jerked and screamed into the gag. The other man fondled her intimately and all there could feel her shame as if she'd spoken it.

Courtney observed and gathered her courage. "Do you two big guys think you can control that poor girl now? I don't know who you are, but the police are bound to be looking for us and you can't get away with this for long. Why are you doing this? Why pick on Melissa and me? We've never done anything to you or anyone else. Why are we here? Is this just about sex? Can't you bastards get girls without kidnapping them and forcing yourselves on them? "

The larger man laughed. "Yeah, it's about sex and maybe about power, too. I'm sure the cops and shrinks would say it's about power, and it is. But we just get off on taking hot bimbos like you two and making you do anything we fancy in our kinkiest fantasies. You'd better watch your mouth, Sweetie. You're due for an introductory whipping soon. How hard it is and how long it lasts depends on your attitude. If you're sweet and submissive and obedient, you can do okay here. Give us trouble and you'll regret it."

"How long are you going to keep us?" Courtney persisted in spite of her fear. "Are you going to kill us, like those other girls in the news? What insane motives must you have? Are you fucking sociopaths who get off on hurting people? "

The smaller man came over and shook his fist at her though the fence. "Shut up, bitch. Watch your language. To answer your question, how long we keep you depends on how well you please us. Those other girls were either not quite pretty enough for longtime slavery here or they were too rebellious. We could break any girl in time and if we thought one was worth it, we'd do that. But the sooner you cooperate, the better your chance of staying alive and not having to be replaced by some other chick that might break easier. The goal is to have two or three babes here to entertain us when we want until we make enough money to leave for greener pastures. We'll probably ransom you in a year or two, but if you've been pleasing and fun to know, we won't kill you. But if you don't do a good job of satisfying us, you could wind up being sold in Mexico instead of being ransomed. Remember that.

"Start thinking of how to do really good sex, and we know that you're a dancer. That's an advantage for you; you can do that to keep us interested. Your pal here is coming along just fine so far. I suggest that you try to be as pleasing. Now, look: we're taking her up for a walk. She'll get rubber shower clogs to wear outside to keep her from getting anything in her feet and we'll lead her around a path where she won't run into anything. If she stumbles, I'll catch her. I like putting my hands on her, anyway.

"When we get back, she'll be up there an hour or so more, pleasing me. Later, we'll bring her back and you can come up after supper and show my friend here what talents you have in bed and in moving to some music for us. Better try hard, honey, or both you and the other slut here will be punished and made to start over. Get the picture?"

Courtney was angry. "We're not sluts, damn you! We're college students. We aren't whores. We don't do what you want, at least not unless it's with some guy we've dated for awhile and really like. We can't just put out like slave girls. Where did you get that fantasy, anyway? This is modern America; not ancient Rome or some Arab prince's fiefdom in a desert halfway across the world!"

"We can discuss this later tonight, when we have you listen to a full briefing about why you're here and what we expect," said the smaller man. "In the meanwhile, start thinking of yourself as belonging to a Roman master or something along those lines and desperate to please. You'll be well served by adopting that mentality. Maybe the other doll here caught on quick because she wants to be an actress. Maybe she sees this as a role or whatever. Now look, the sun will be easing down before too long, and Melissa here has earned some sun and fresh air. We'll see you in a couple of hours. Be thinking of where you stand. No one is looking near here for you and there's no way for the cops to connect you to us. You're totally in our hands Get that through your proud head and think of how to make us find you worthwhile."

"Wait," begged Courtney. "I'm dying of thirst. I think that drug you gave me dehydrated me. May I have some water? Please, sir?"

The man relented and went over to a large box across the room near a refrigerator. He took out a bottle of water and came into her cell and made her kneel and accept the water as he held the bottle. Her wrists were fastened at her navel, so she had no way to manage the plastic bottle on her own. This added to her fury but she tried not to glare at the men. After all, she was responsible not only for her own safety with them, but they'd punish Melissa if she angered them enough!

"Thanks," she said after drinking her fill.

"That's better, baby," said the taller man. "But say, 'thanks, master' from now on. It'll help you to fit into your new life here. I mean that. "

Courtney nodded, and then cast her gaze down, trying not to show her disgrace and anger.

The smaller man locked her fence door and the two captors led Melissa away and helped her up the stairs, her ankle chains dragging and clinking, an ominous sound to the poor girl left behind. Courtney started suddenly, afraid that they'd turn off the light and leave her in darkness. But they didn't, and she heard the door lock and sat down on her mattress to think. But she was so frightened that she had trouble organizing her thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Six

The BAU team breakfasted at an International House of Pancakes (IHOP) coffee shop, finding friendly service and good food. They were seeing a little more of the town and were gradually becoming aware that it was actually a rather affluent area, numbering among its citizens a considerable group who had fled California's liberal attitudes, frequent earthquakes, urban pollution, and racial strife. A number of landowners raised cattle and crops and many owned prosperous businesses. True, some business was seasonal, like hunting and fishing, with limited skiing in winter. But outdoorsmen spent a lot when there and there was enough trade from the area to sustain most stores and other businesses remaining open year-round.

Motels and the two hotels were often crowded in season, but had enough trade to cope all year. Many tourists and those commuting from the drier eastern part of the state to the big coastal cities often stopped off in Elk Pass for food and sleep.

The group agreed that their rooms were clean and comfortable, with cable TV for basic networks; others for a premium fee. Hotchner talked with his crew and agreed to see if there was enough room at the inn for individual rooms.

"Reid keeps me up late reading," complained Morgan.

"I'd share my books with you, but most don't have enough pictures to interest you," retorted Reid, to general amusement. Jareau said that she didn't want to change roommates, in case they still had to share, and that, too, got a laugh.

By the time they got to the sheriff's office, they were more sober. The case was not one that left anyone in a sparkling mood, after all. And it rapidly grew worse.

Sheriff Ford came in soon after they'd set up and were comparing notes with three deputies assigned to guide them around town. "I'm afraid that I have some bad news," he related. "Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn Cassidy called this morning to report their daughter Courtney missing. She didn't come home for supper and didn't call after saying that she was headed for the library to research a college assignment. That was at about 3:00PM, and she was due home by six. I'll spare you asking about the usual possibilities, like if she got a date, went to a friend's house, etc. The parents called everyone they know and called hospitals and the jail. Not that Courtney is likely to have been arrested. She's got a fine background. Was a cheerleader in high school and made mostly 'A' grades and has continued that at the junior college, where she's a sophomore; she's 19. And she looks a lot like the other missing girl, Melissa. Both are blondes about the same height. Attended the same high school, too.

"Now, I know this family from church and the dad called me today. They're plenty worried and I agree. We usually don't fool with missing persons reports unless at least two days have elapsed. But in this case, Courtney is so responsible and I know the family… Now, here is where it gets worse. I put out a BOLO (Be On the Look Out bulletin) for her car and Sgt. Thomas just called in that it's parked at the library. Looks like it was there all night. We're going to send a team over with some lab people and check it out; dust for prints, that sort of thing. "

Rossi interrupted. "I guess you've asked about her cell phone and tried to access call records?"

Ford nodded. "Doing that now. The phone company is supposed to call back after they pull up her account. And they're tracking the phone. Unless the batteries were removed, we should get a fix on it even if it's turned off. A lot of folks don't realize that we have that capability. We catch several fugitives a year who think they're invisible to us electronically just because they turned off their phones. But you guys know that. Anyway, this may be a lead to worsening developments in the case. Aaron, do you want to join me at her car and maybe send agents to the medical examiner and to interview the families of the victims? That'd include the parents of Melissa Winters. They're calling us a lot, although I assured them that we'll notify them if we find anything. I guess that if it was my daughter missing, I'd be worried sick, too. Hell, I know I would. That girl, her brother, and my wife are pretty much my life, beyond the job and a hobby or two. I feel sure that any of us here who're parents know the feeling."

"All right," said Hotchner. "I'll go with you to the car. That way, we can stay in touch best and I can tell my team what we find. Morgan, you go with me. When we're done there, we'll see the medical examiner. JJ, you and Dave visit the college and see which classes the missing students may have had together and see who they may have been friends with. Reid, you and Ashley go with Deputy Blacklaws and see the Cassidy girl's family. Try to question any siblings away from the parents, of course. Teens often tell one another things that they don't tell the parents. Sheriff, is Courtney a single child?"

"Nope. Got a sister who's 16. Pretty close, too, I think. But she went to school today. You can catch her there away from the parents after you talk to them. She attends Beaver Dam High School. Peter can show you the way."

"Okay, everyone: I'll call you later about when to meet back here or at the motel. And I'll see about getting us separate rooms. They're cheaper than expected, so _per diem_ should cover the expense. Call me as you learn things, or don't." Hotchner shoved his coffee cup away and rose, donning his suit jacket.


	7. Chapter 7

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Seven

The team visiting Courtney Cassidy's family took Blacklaws's cruiser, to save having to follow him in traffic and to allow them to talk as they drove. Seaver rode in front with Blacklaws and Reid sat in the back. Seaver found that Blacklaws was a witty raconteur with a droll sense of humor, telling the others about the town and the department as well as the case. Seaver learned that he had lost a wife in an auto accident three years before and wasn't dating anyone in particular.

At the family residence on a gracefully elm-shaded street that spoke softly of comfortable wealth, they found both parents awaiting them, the sheriff having notified them that investigators were en route.

Vaughn Cassidy was a tall man with handsome features and a worried look that showed the strain that he was under. He wore a classic green Izod shirt with tan Dockers or similar slacks and dark brown Timberland handsewn shoes, heavier than boat shoes, but along those lines. His wife was well-bred and classy, with a beauty queen or socialite look about her. She was in a blue and white floral pattern dress, knee-length, with short sleeves and white high heels. The silver and turquoise pendant around her neck and matching earrings looked expensive. These were probably of Zuni, Hopi, or Navajo origin. Seaver noticed that the wedding rings boasted a substantial number of carats. One sensed that the Cassidys, Vaughn and Christie, were athletic and aware of themselves as glamour people, certainly more "Hollywood" than most in this small city. Pictures of Courtney and her sister Tessa adorned a whole wall in the well appointed living room. The girls were shown over the years in beauty contests and as cheerleaders. The team noted that other photos depicted Mrs. Cassidy in similar roles. The girls were clearly being raised in her glamorous shadow, and looked polished and prime. They appeared smart but a bit satisfied with themselves, aware of their looks and their social positions. Cassidy said that he ran a very successful insurance agency and Mrs. Cassidy asked a Mexican maid to bring coffee and cookies before admitting that she was exclusively a housewife. She was active in social affairs and in hosting parties for her husband's business. Travel photos and memorabilia revealed that the family had vacationed in France, the UK, Germany, and other countries, some in the tropical Americas. Several pictures taken on boats depicted oceanic fishing, with tuna, barracuda, wahoo, and a sailfish as catches. The mounted sailfish graced a wall in the next room, visible through a wide door. The BAU agents revised their opinion of the family and the town. This was hardly just a rural village as they'd half expected. Reid began to suspect that kidnapping for ransom might be more likely to explain Courtney's absence than one of the Bigfoot cases.

Blacklaws looked closely at the photos of Courtney and excused himself to make a phone call from the porch. He had seen this girl before, and thought he knew where. And that was not the image of her that one would expect from this home and these parents…

In a few minutes, he was back and listened politely to the accolades from the parents, who were insistent that Courtney was a fine young lady and never in trouble; didn't run with a questionable crowd, etc.

And then, he asked as nicely as he could phrase it about Courtney's job. He had just confirmed with Harry's Boobalicious Club that it was indeed her that he'd seen dance there while checking the club for violations and general compliance with local regulations. She used a different name, Misti Waters, but he knew her face and her voice and her body language, the sexy saunter that she employed to drag male eyes after her as she walked. Courtney Cassidy was not a girl whom men forgot easily, once seen.


	8. Chapter 8

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Eight

The Cassidys sat stunned after Blacklaws told how he knew their daughter. Both FBI agents looked at one another, at Blacklaws, and then back at the couple whose daughter was missing.

Finally, Christie Cassidy said, "Vaughn, we need to level with these people. This is very embarrassing, but if we can tell them anything at all that'll get Courtney back…"

He nodded and sighed. "Agents, what I'm about to tell you is in confidence, if at all possible. I don't even want the sheriff to know, unless he really has to. I mean, we know his family from church and school! We live here, and my reputation is everything to my business. But the fact is, I've lost a lot of that business over the past year to a new firm that's undercut my insurer's allowable rates. I can't always discount policies as much as they can. And we had some medical expenses before my mother died last fall, and then the funeral. High expenses… The gist of this is that I had to let go a clerk in the office and we've thought of firing the maid." He looked carefully to see that the Mexican girl wasn't in sight.

"Courtney wanted to attend UCLA; not just go to the junior college here. But we couldn't swing that right now, and she wants to pay her own way, not be a burden to me and her mother when things are tight. So, she heard about that job and took it before Christie and I knew she was doing that. When we found out where she was working, the family had a big argument. Both of my daughters stuck together and told me that I should be grateful that Courtney was making so much money in three nights a week, sometimes on a weekend. She pays her own tuition and wants to work until she has enough saved for a year at UCLA after she graduates with an Associate of Arts degree here and maybe gets a scholarship or two. She threatened to move out if we couldn't handle her working there, at least while she hunts a better job that'll let her set her hours so that she can stay in college. So we agreed to see what happens over the next few months and in the meantime, we carefully aren't talking about that. Especially, we are not telling anyone whom we know. What worries me is that Tessa sort of thinks it's glamorous or adventurous and she looks up to Courtney. Thank goodness, she's legally too young to even be in a bar, let alone to dance in one. And she told me last week that she'll try to talk Courtney into finding something else without getting Christie and me involved, so that Courtney's rebellion and stubbornness won't be aroused. She'll listen to her sister before she does her parents, about some things, anyway. And that's where we stand right now. I just hope this whole issue goes away and that Courtney stays in junior college on what she can make in some other job and still can save enough to stop working in that sleazy club."

Christie took her husband's hand and said, "I think she'll come around. Courtney is smart and she's basically a good girl. This thing is partly about money and about her pride, about not wanting to take money that Vaughn and I don't have right now, and she told me that we need to keep Rosa, the maid, if we can. Both girls like Rosa, and she needs the job. And to be honest, I think this dancing thing appeals a little to Courtney's vanity. She gets excited about men wanting her, buying her flowers and little gifts and coming back to ask for her to dance at their tables. Apparently, some of the girls there have fans." She grimaced.

"Deputy Blacklaws? Is that your name? What do the girls earn there, if you know? What does Courtney get for a table dance or a lap dance? That's just so sordid, but I want to know." Mrs. Cassidy flushed pink but had genuine curiosity in her eyes.

Blacklaws replied that the going rate was $20 for table dances; $25 for lap dances. "But the girls get tips, and if you'll forgive my saying so, I suspect that Courtney gets more and better tips than most. She seems popular on the few occasions when I've seen her work. And she gets attention as she makes her rounds on stage, too. The girls dance on a succession of three stages, then take breaks and work the floor for table and lap dances. She's quite classy and seems to interact well with men. She has her steady admirers, I'm sure, and she does seem to enjoy the attention. But if I may change the subject, we need to decide if she's a victim of kidnapping for ransom, or was taken by a rapist, or is missing for some other reason. Does she date anyone in particular? Have any close friends who'd know where she might go or with whom, if she was taken?"

The Cassidys looked at one another and Christie said, "I know she dates Tim Wright more than other guys. I don't think they're going steady, but they go out a night or two a week, when she isn't working, of course. He brings her home sometimes, too, after they go somewhere after she gets off. And I know that she's spent three nights at his apartment near the college. But he seems nice and I know that she's going to spend time with men now that she's out of high school and is doing… what she does. I'd rather have her be with Tim than most young guys today. He seems decent and I doubt that he uses drugs, and she says he treats her with respect. I know she likes him. But I don't think they'd take off and not call us. And I called Tim last night and asked if she was there. He said no, and he got concerned. In fact, he called a couple of hours ago and asked about her. He's worried, too. They were supposed to date tonight and she hasn't called him."

Reid and Seaver asked the remainder of the questions that they normally would in such circumstances and warned the couple to notify them at once if any ransom demand was received.

"I know the kidnaper will probably tell you not to contact police, but if you don't, you probably won't see Courtney again. We have very subtle ways of investigating kidnappings and we can avoid letting them know that we're working the case." Reid tried to reassure the troubled parents.

"Look here," said Cassidy." If someone has grabbed Courtney for money, what's to stop them from taking Tessa, too? Are you going to be able to protect her? Should we take her out of school for awhile, until we know what's really happening?"

"That's a good question," admitted Seaver after looking at Reid. "Frankly, if she was my daughter, I think I'd keep her here at home. We were going to swing by the school and see if she could tell us anything that you haven't, but maybe when we do that, we'd better bring her home in Peter's patrol car. Does she have her own car?"

"No, she either rides the bus or I get her," said Christie Cassidy.

They decided to have the male Cassidy and Reid call the principal and have Tessa brought to the school office and for her mother and the law officers to collect her there.

"In fact, why don't I stay with the Cassidys in case someone contacts the house and you and Peter go get Tessa?" suggested Reid to Seaver. He felt that Tessa might say more to his female partner than if he was present. And he wanted both parents away from the girl in case she knew anything that she was hiding from her mother and father.

They agreed to that and Vaughn Cassidy reached for the telephone. He glanced at his wife, who told him the school number from memory. This day had become a nightmare, and he hoped fervently that it would improve. At least, Tessa would be home safe soon. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost his second daughter as well as the first.


	9. Chapter 9

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Nine

In the meantime, Sheriff Ford, Hotchner, and Morgan were listening to Dr. Charles Merrill, the medical examiner.

"You saw the photos that I submitted earlier," related Merrill, "but I want you to see some aspects of these deaths in person. You'll be more aware of what I saw."

The men donned surgical gowns, masks, and gloves, and Merrill led the way to a stainless steel table with a body displayed, face-up. "Now, this is the most extreme example of what I've seen in these murders," said the examiner. You'll see that this individual's right arm was severely twisted at the shoulder and has been almost ripped off. This and similar damage and those damned tracks are what led some reporters and gullible citizens to think a Bigfoot was involved. And I think the perpetrator did this deliberately and made those tracks to encourage the belief that this isn't their work, but that of some possibly mythical animal. Note the left knee, which was almost completely disarticulated, like you'd disjoint a chicken leg. The throat was pounded with some object, and that as much as anything may have been the cause of death. I wouldn't be surprised if someone hit the victim with an object that crushed the windpipe and watched as the poor man choked to death. Most of the other wounds were post mortem."

"The skull was smashed pretty well, too," noted Hotchner. "What would have done that? Our notes say that a bloody tree branch was found there and may have been the weapon. But it's pretty big and heavy for a man to wield. "

Merrill nodded. "Yes, I think the branch was used, although perhaps hoisted by two men. But a sledgehammer may have been the actual instrument, with the branch then pounded into the wounds created by the hammer. It was a violent assault. On studying the damage, I found several more rounded blows staged to adjoin, to look more like one hit from the branch. The facial bones, the nose, and the brow ridge of the skull were badly broken. This took force. But it probably didn't require a Bigfoot to do that. Grant, you're a big man. If you went really ape with anger, especially, you could do that, or Morgan here could; maybe any of us. There are plenty of men large enough for that. Probably'd take a big man, though, so I pretty much rule out a female assailant, unless we discover a circus sideshow-strong female. Women often lose their tempers and might go wild in an assault, but they'd have to truly hate someone to do this. They usually prefer more subtle forms of murder, too, like poison. This was likely done to deceive, not in real anger. But it may have been done to please someone's lust to disfigure others to achieve and feel power. "

Other victims showed similar damage, and Merrill explained that the ripped out joints were probably the work of a large gardening tool, like a sharp pruning hook in powerful hands. "And I think that this rent in the victim's ribs was probably inflicted with a chainsaw," he concluded, gesturing to a horrible injury on the bald man, once named Mike Dithers.

They continued to examine the victims, with detailed observations from the examiner, who was clearly disgusted with what he was explaining.

"Doctor, you've been very informative and insightful," said Hotchner finally. "Thank you for your expertise. I think we can reach some useful conclusions based on what we saw here today."

"I'm glad, then," said the M.E. "If I can help to get whoever did this off the street and help give closure to the victims' families…"

XXX

At the high school, Blacklaws and Seaver picked up Tessa Cassidy and chatted with her on the way to her home. She looked admiringly at the tall deputy, to Seaver's mild pique. Tessa seemed thrilled to be the center of attention, but she could tell the officers nothing significant about her missing sibling. Not that she didn't care. She was deeply worried and echoed her parents' conviction that Courtney had met with foul play.

"She wouldn't screw around with us like this," she declared. "Something is really wrong here. Please find my sister. I love her so much...And if you think whoever got her might get me, too, what can I do? You can't protect me forever. Mom and Dad must be going nuts. Can you at least have someone stay with us or out front tonight, in a cop car?"

Blacklaws said that he'd ask the sheriff. It seemed a very reasonable request. He wondered if the family had received a ransom demand yet. Surely Reed would have called, though, if they had. The lack of contact by kidnappers suggested even darker prospects than if Courtney was being held for a monetary demand.

He caught Seaver's eye and she was clearly worried. At least a demand would confirm a kidnapping, and that would bring the FBI into the case on more than a consulting/profiling basis. Kidnapping for ransom is a Federal crime and the Bureau had major resources to assist. But until they knew more, they were basically helpless. It was not a good feeling to have.

XXX

Nor were Rossi and Jareau successful in discovering any clues at the junior college, although they noted which teachers the missing girls had in common and interviewed them and selected students for several hours.

"But," observed Rossi dejectedly," they weren't really together in any of these classes, and those professors teach a lot of students. "

Jareau closed her tablet in despair. "Let's go get a cheeseburger. That'd at least be accomplishing something useful."

Rossi smiled. "That's my girl. An agent after my own heart. We'll call Hotch after we eat."

XXX

Winston Hso was the sheriff's chief computer specialist as well as a sworn deputy. He was entering data about an unrelated case when he decided to run a routine scan to ensure there were no signs of hacking or tampering with the programs. He clattered the keyboard, glancing at the monitor to be sure that no anomalies or unexplained entries were present. He was very proud of the anti-virus, anti-malware program, which was his own work, devised during his senior year at Rice University in Houston. He was on the verge of perfecting and patenting this and hoped that licensing it would make him a wealthy man.

He was startled to see unauthorized entries and checked them, finding that they led back to a blind trail, designed to disguise a hacking effort. Someone was into their computer!

He looked up and saw Undersheriff Knowles walking down the hall and called him over.

"Boss, you gotta see this," he said. "We're being hacked, and whoever this is, is really good."

Knowles watched for a moment as they deduced which files were being invaded and then asked, "Winston, can you catch this son of a bitch? "

"I think so," said the Chinese-American genius. "I'm already backtracking and have bypassed the cut-out servers designed to obfuscate the issue. Hell, this traces to an FBI computer! But it's not in Seattle or Spokane. It's in Quantico, VA. I can get you the IP number and other data, but you'll have to get the rest from them, I think. We'd better tell the sheriff."

Knowles reflected. "He's still with Hotchner and that grouchy black guy over at the M.E.'s office. I'll ask him to step away from them and take a private call."

And he reached for his cell phone.


	10. Chapter 10

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Ten

Ford thought quickly and told Hotchner that he needed to return to his office on another matter and asked if the FBI men could proceed on their own. Assured that they'd cope, he returned to his office, where he spoke with Hso and the Undersheriff to confirm what he'd heard on the phone. They filled him in on what was happening, and Ford was furious.

On the way to the office, he'd turned over in his mind what was the best thing to do. He called Diefenbaker, his longtime friend, hoping that he wasn't the source of the hacking. Maybe Hotchner had put his staff up to this? What motive might he have?

Diefenbaker was shocked and assured Ford that he had no idea what was happening and that he appreciated being told. "Wait a moment," he said. "What sort of files are they accessing? I just remembered that one of Hotchner's men is very friendly with their primary computer tech and she may be doing this for him. Hotchner may not even know."

Told that the probes were centered on Affirmative Action hiring practices and on Sr. Deputy Blacklaws and on all racial aspects of the department, the Asst. Director of the FBI snarled, "Grant, I think I see what's going on. It's probably that damned Agent Morgan, the black one. I'll get over to the BAU office and question the tech, but I'll be surprised if it's anything else. I promise you, I ordered no such search of your records, and if this is his doing, he's going to be very lucky not to be facing an inquiry from the Office of Professional Responsibility and maybe criminal charges. Let me question this Miss Garcia and I'll get back to you when I know more. Don't let Hotchner know that you're aware of anything just yet, please. I want to be sure what we're dealing with before I decide what to say and to whom."

"Okay, Jack," replied Ford. "I've known you a long time, and although the Bureau gets up to some things that many question, I'll trust you on this. Don't screw me here, and we can probably work something out. I appreciate how it'll make you look if this was done by someone under your command and you weren't in the loop. It will also embarrass the Bureau if the Shinola hits the fan if I file a formal complaint. Call me as soon as you sort this out. I mean, call me. Without fail. At whatever hour you know something."

"Certainly, Grant. I'll let you know what I know as soon as I know it." And Diefenbaker hung up and summoned two agents to accompany him to the BAU office. He was not happy at all.

_Note: more soon. I'll try to post more frequently. I do know what's about to happen. Hold your horses until this thing is complete, and don't assume anything yet._


	11. Chapter 11

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Eleven

That afternoon, having conferred several times with his friend Diefenbaker after that supervisor had interrogated Garcia, Ford called in Hotchner, who had in the meantime had his own consultations with Diefenbaker. And both Diefenbaker and Hotchner had grilled Morgan, who they knew was the cause of the hacking issue. The topics hacked alone suggested his involvement.

Diefenbaker had had logs of calls to Garcia retrieved and had listened to him telling Garcia what to do and why. Their conversations had not been happy, and Morgan was made to understand that it was by the skin of his teeth that he was escaping indictment and prosecution with termination from the FBI. Had Diefenbaker not wanted to keep the event as little known as possible to protect his own career and wanted to avoid any racially charged situation, that is what probably would have happened.

Now, Morgan sat with his supervisor and the sheriff, Blacklaws, Hsu, Knowles, and David Rossi, who Hotchner had asked to attend the meeting.

The men discussed sending Morgan back to Quantico, to appease Ford and get him out of the way. But he was needed, and so was the Bureau car that would go with him. Moreover, Waters would probably have to accompany him, as Morgan didn't know his way around the state, and if he stopped for any problems and encountered hostility because of his race, that would only exacerbate the matter. And they needed the tactical supplies and rations packed in the FBI SUV's.

Finally, Hotchner suggested that Morgan accept a suspension without pay, beginning when the unit returned to Quantico. They argued over the length of the suspension, finally agreeing on 60 days instead of the 90 days that Ford wanted. Hotchner then called Diefenbaker, with whom he had agreed already on the general idea, and Diefenbaker accepted the terms and said that he'd be watching Morgan for a considerable time after he returned to duty. He had Hotchner tell Morgan with some heat that he Had Embarrassed The Bureau. That was enough to end a career, and Morgan knew that he would have to be on his best behavior for a year or more before this really died down, if it could. But Morgan thanked both Hotchner and Ford for not crucifying him and Garcia, as they had a right to do. He was indeed lucky to get off with an ass-chewing and the 60 days off without pay.

What hurt him almost as bad, in a way more, was that Garcia was also due for suspension. Because she was not the instigator of the plot, she was not dealt with as severely. And she was a technician, not a sworn Special Agent, of whom more was expected. But Penelope Garcia was still going to be out a month's pay, not insignificant as she didn't earn a great deal, to put the matter mildly. Morgan knew that he'd have to find some way to apologize to her for almost ruining her life as well as his own.

Before they adjourned, Ford said that he had a few words for Morgan.

"I know what you were trying to do, you dope. We've been over that. But just so you see the matter in better perspective, I think you should know that there are only about 20 black people in this entire county and I employ three, one as a deputy and two as clerks. This area doesn't have a lot of government or medical jobs, the sort of things that attract your people on the whole, and it isn't an urban area, like Seattle. Now, there's more: look at Senior Deputy Blacklaws there. See those ribbons on his uniform shirt? One's for marksmanship and I won't go into a couple of others. But that red one on the left of the display is the award for extreme gallantry in line of duty. You know why he wears that ribbon, Morgan? He got it for saving the life of a four-year-old black child who was trapped in a burning house. He put his own life at risk to save that kid. Whatever he may think of your race on the whole, and I suspect that he may not want to hang out with blacks, he did risk his very life to save one of you in line of duty. Nor has he ever charged anyone, black, silver, blue or purple, with any crime that they didn't commit. If I thought that he'd do that, South African birth or not, I wouldn't have him on my force.

"Now, I think we've spent enough time on this distraction. I want to get back to finding those girls, not have any other personnel problems. Can we do that? If so, let's dismiss for the day and Aaron can take his crew back to the motel and discuss whatever he needs to there. The rest of us will talk briefly in my office, and then we're done for the day. Anyone want to say more before we dismiss? If not, let's meet at that IHOP café tomorrow at eight AM for a working breakfast and assign our people as we see fit after we compare notes. I know we need more interviews at those schools, and that's drudge work, but it may pay off. I'll call Vaughn Cassidy and his wife and tell them and Melissa's family that we're at a dead end, but that something may turn up."

An officer knocked on the door and leaned in. "Sheriff, a patrol just found those girls' phones. The phone company tracked them to the same place, that Sacajawea memorial park near the western edge of town. Forensics says they've been wiped clean. No fingerprints. But if both phones were together, I guess that tells us that the girls were lifted by the same captors, and they probably didn't just run away."

"Okay," said the sheriff. "I want Winston here to stay late tonight, and I will. He'll see what we can get out of the phones; see who they called last, that sort of thing."

"I'll join you," said Hotchner. "Morgan, you stay with me, for the rest of this investigation. The rest of our agents will go eat and then meet at the motel. I'll call Dave there as soon as we know more. "

Then a thought struck him. "Grant, if Melissa has been missing for a week longer than Courtney, why are those phones together?"

"I just thought of that," admitted the sheriff. "Damned good question. Let's see if anything on the phones explains that. And anything else!"

And on that note, they adjourned.


	12. Chapter 12

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Twelve

The men who had waited to examine the recovered telephones were soon rewarded: Hso fiddled with them and soon had not only the list they wanted of those called recently, but each phone held a video of its owner.

They looked at Melissa's first and as the film advanced, saw her against a white wall with a wooden floor. Melissa looked into the camera, blushed, stated her name, address, and parents' phone, and reached back with both hands to unhook her lacy black push-up bra. She didn't just flick the clasp loose and take it off. Instead, she slipped the straps down her shoulders before bringing one knee forward in a seductive stance and then reaching back with both hands to unhook as she moved her shoulders back and her breasts out. She hung it on a simple wooden chair and stepped out of her matching panties, moving with seductive grace that incorporated a subtle wiggle that wouldn't normally be seen in a girl undressing without a male audience. Then, she began dancing to music, doing a rock and roll performance that excited the viewers as it aroused sympathy. Seaver recognized the dance as something called the Cat Daddy, made somewhat notorious when a famous model performed it in a video widely seen On YouTube. Melissa seemed to be familiar with it. This was not an awkward performance forced from a shy girl who'd never practiced those moves!

"She keeps glancing off to the side, "noted Hotchner. "Someone is coaching her and she seems afraid. She's looking for approval and frightened that she may not get it. I'm almost sure that she's moving to CD music, not a radio. They probably have a player in there and she was told to strip and dance to it."

No sooner had he spoken than Melissa made a seductive face, licking her lips, and finished her dance in about a minute. She seemed to slack off, but looked sharply to her left, nodded, and then began grooving again to the beat of a popular song that had been well chosen for the purpose.

Next, the music ceased and she seemed to be listening to instructions from beyond the field of view. The sound resumed as she knelt, thighs wide, her hands placed palm up on her legs, shoulders back and breasts out. The pose was one of raw erotic submission. The girl began to speak, saying that she was well and had been told that she would remain so as long as she pleased her captors. She said that she and Courtney were in the hands of men who would see that the girls served them well for an indeterminate time. They were being trained as slave girls. After they were ready, the captors might ransom the women, or they might sell them in Mexico, to entertain drug lords or to be re-sold to a brothel or to an owner who might keep them in some place where that would be accepted, probably in the Middle East or in some Latin American or Asian land where a man of sufficient power could own a harem without interference, despite what laws might say on paper.

"Mom, Dad," she begged, "Please start getting together some money, as much as you can. They're going to see what you got together in a few months and see if it's enough for them to sell us back to our families or if they'd rather go to the trouble of taking us elsewhere to sell for more. Please help us. You wouldn't believe what we have to do here to avoid being punished. Courtney Cassidy is going to make a video like this, too, for her parents.

"Warn the police not to interfere, or we'll probably be killed and dumped like those people killed by Bigfoot or whoever. But it isn't Bigfoot who has us. It's men who know what they want from girls and we're going to be doing just what they say until you're contacted. Please forgive us. Courtney and I have no choice at all. We have to beg to be allowed to please these men or they make us wish that we had, and then they start over. If one of us refuses to do something, both girls are punished. It hurts! Please get what you can together and wait to be contacted. They said to tell you that it'll be about three months, to let you save up and find whatever else you can. It has to be at least $100,000 per girl, or it won't be worth their while to free us. That's all I'm allowed to say. Please help us!"

The sound ended as the girl rose and stepped out of view as the scene ended. But the camera then resumed, and Melissa walked back into sight. Her wrists were locked behind her, her arms folded at her waist, locked in rigid hinged handcuffs that had no links between bracelets. She wore a slim chain leash on a metal collar. She looked at the camera and said, half weeping, "I have to go back to my cell now so they can bring in Courtney and let her make a video like this. Please ransom us when they ask. I miss you all so much!" Then she walked in a small circle a few times, displaying herself, and exited to the right of the camera, wearing only high-heeled shoes and medium large circular gold earrings. They knew about the earrings, as her hair was in a ponytail.

Courtney's camera yielded a very similar video, with the Cassidy girl obviously as frightened as Melissa had been. Like Melissa, she looked out of the picture several times, taking cues from her captors. The primary difference was that Courtney moved with a certain practiced sensuality that Melissa lacked, She displayed a fluid grace and subtle moves that were calculated to arouse a man even more than Melissa's dance had done. She had moved a bit stiffly at first, and then someone said something to her and they heard a crack like a stick hitting something. Courtney blanched, said, "Yes, master" and loosened up, dancing as if her safety depended on satisfying whoever held her.

When the phone was closed and the men looked at one another, there was a moment of silence, with shock, disgust and anger apparent on each face.

"Well, "said Hotchner, breaking the uncomfortable silence, " these people have achieved more than the horror and fear that they wanted to generate. These messages also mean that we know for sure that we have two cases of kidnapping for ransom. That's a very serious Federal felony. We came here as consultants in local murders, and we'll work those cases, too. But we can now bring the full resources of the FBI to bear in rescuing the Winters and the Cassidy girls. I think that the offenders who made these tapes to terrify the victims' families have also put themselves in jeopardy."

He turned to the computer genius on his left. "Deputy Hso, can you make copies of each of these videos and send them to the tablets of all of my team? I want them to view them tonight and be thinking about what hidden messages we may be able to fathom from them. We'll discuss this at breakfast, if the sheriff can guarantee us a private area at that IHOP. Grant?"

The sheriff nodded. "Hell, yes, I'll get us a private room. I'll call the restaurant now and reserve one that also has a nice view out the window of what looks like virgin forest out back. It's really nice and that back room is isolated from the rest of the premises. No one can eavesdrop. But do you think we really have much to work with here?"

Hotchner nodded. "Yes, they told us quite a bit about themselves. You may be surprised at what my team will have ascertained by the time we see you at breakfast. I'll call them now and be sure their tablets are turned on and tell them to view the videos as they're received. It's early enough for them to look at them for an hour or two before bedtime, and it'll get their minds working. "

"In that case," said Ford, "I'll see you then and be very interested in what you have to say."

Hotchner nodded and started to leave. Then he paused and returned to the county official. "Sheriff, I really am sorry about that hacking. I swear that I had no idea that Morgan was doing that, and I'll make sure that he keeps his nose clean from now on "

Ford thought, looking carefully at the FBI agent. Then, he rose and extended a big hand. "I think we dealt with it satisfactorily. It's water under the bridge now."

Hotchner, relieved, shook his hand and left, thinking, Water under the bridge. I hope so. Flow gently, sweet Afton…and may your current take us to some good answers about what we have to deal with!


	13. Chapter 13

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Thirteen

The following morning, the agents and Ford's selected deputies, including the computer- wise Winston Hso, met as planned at the IHOP restaurant. They had received copies of the phone videos and studied them and had held a brief discussion at the motel the previous night and were almost ready to state their conclusions. But they debated as they awaited their orders.

Reid had been a little embarrassed to order a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity breakfast, but Rossi had told him that he shouldn't feel self-conscious about the silly name. "It's one of the best breakfast deals ever, I think, "he reassured, and ordered the same thing.

With the waitresses gone for the moment, Hotchner glanced around the room, noting the long solid glass wall between this room and the rest of the restaurant. The view of the woods behind the restaurant was splendid and both calming and cheering.

"Shall we begin?" he asked. "Is there anyone here who can't discuss these matters at breakfast? Some of that footage is pretty humiliating to the captives and some may be seriously offensive to our female agents."

Seaver and Jareau looked at one another and both shrugged. "We've seen far worse," summed up JJ. "At least, these girls are alive. I hope we can keep them that way. Just you guys try not to leer too hard. Those videos are sort of sexy in a degenerate way."

"Okay, we'll go around the table and offer our thoughts," Hotchner continued. "We'll start with you, JJ. By the way, when the food comes, just wait until the waitresses leave again to discuss this. I think it goes without saying that we won't leave our tablets or laptops on, showing those images while the servers are at the table."

Everyone nodded, and the blonde FBI agent began her summary. "Ashley and I talked about what we saw and one of the first things we noticed that may have gotten past you guys is that the lingerie is probably not what you'd expect the girls to wear. We think someone who took them provided it, to be more spectacular than what they probably had on when kidnapped."

"Yeah," added Seaver. "Many girls have things like that, but mainly for fancy date nights or when their men insist they wear it. These two were just college girls, on a class day. No reason to dress up like that under their clothes. Even the Cassidy girl probably didn't dress that provocatively to go to work, regardless of her dancing and soliciting drinks in even less. Dancers wear special thongs called T-backs. They don't perform in their normal underwear. By the way, I know this stuff and other things about strip clubs because I generally work human trafficking cases. I've dealt with a lot of women smuggled into the US or just solicited here to be topless dancers or to be call girls and other whores. Many wind up in Los Angeles, hoping to become actresses. They get taken over by pimps and other profiteers and pressed into prostitution or into dancing in clubs to make ends meet while they wait to be discovered by a talent scout or producer. Some are really pretty and may even be talented, especially by the standards of high school stage performances. But most chicks save their best lingerie for hot dates; they don't wear it around town day-to-day. Actresses or models might wear nice undies to auditions, where they might have to undress to get a role, I guess. The casting couch is still operative in Hollywood, if less overtly so than it once was. " She looked to JJ to continue.

"Agreed," that woman said. "And our point here is not just that the girls were made to dress up in those distinctive panties and bras; we think it might be possible to trace them to whoever bought them. So, unless they were ordered by some guy's girlfriend or wife under her own name, we think that mail orders of those exact styles will be fairly easy to trace in a small town. Credit card purchases in stores might nail the buyers, too. It's well past Valentine's Day, when men are most likely to buy their ladies things like that, and the Christmas buying season isn't really much underway yet. So, expensive lacy black items like these may stand out, especially if they bought several sets. We know they bought at least two, because the items worn in the videos were slightly different for each girl. Courtney needs a little larger bra than Melissa does, I bet, so they have to have different sizes bought to fit the size girls they intended to kidnap. They may even have targeted Courtney and Melissa in advance and gone after them specifically. "

"Don't bras have to be selected for the girl who'll wear them, and in a size and style of cup that fits? I've dated girls to whom I've given lingerie and they had to exchange a few things to get them right. One said to let her come along when buying bras. If the captors had to guess sizes, mightn't they have gotten those wrong? The alternative is that they waited to buy this stuff until after they had the girls, and then got the information about sizes from them or from looking at the items they were forced to take off. What I'm thinking here is that the videos weren't made for several days after both were taken, so the thugs could get that data directly from the girls, and then hit the stores. If that's the case, we're looking at local purchases; they haven't had time to receive mail orders yet, except maybe for Melissa." Waters looked as if he was embarrassed to be saying these things but hopeful that he made sense.

"That might just be a really useful line of investigation," allowed Sheriff Ford. "By golly, you geniuses at the Bureau are onto this lingerie stuff, aren't you? But kidding aside, maybe we ought to get someone to visit the stores here that are most likely to sell these things, especially at this time of year. Winston? Can you make printouts of the girls in those outfits and blur the faces to save them embarrassment? That way, whoever visits the shops can show the clerks the exact styles involved."

Hso nodded. "Sure, I can do that, and I'll blow some images up and crop them to give a better view of just the merchandise. I can probably have that ready this afternoon. Who's going to go to the stores? "

"I'll volunteer," laughed Peter Blacklaws. "But I want a female agent with me. It would probably help. Ashley, are you interested? I'll buy you lunch, too. And not just at a McDonald's. You deserve more than that."

Seaver blushed and looked at her boss. "Hotch? May I go? Peter is flirting, but he's really who should come with me. He's good looking and funny and smart and the sales girls will probably try harder to think of what they've sold to impress him. And we get along well together. If I'm going to go lingerie shipping with a man, I'd feel less self-conscious with him than most."

Jareau was amused. "Yeah, Ash: let Peter talk to the clerks while you shop. Maybe you'll luck out and catch a sale! They'll tell him what they know, and you can shop on duty and get paid for it. Smooth move!"

That led to a mix of laughter and groans.

Okay, we'll do that," agreed Hotchner. "Seaver and Blacklaws can cover that. Now, what's next that we noticed on the videos? What sort of men are we dealing with? I think there is more than one, although in theory, just one man could have taken both girls. Who feels how about that? One man? More?"


	14. Chapter 14

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Fourteen

The law enforcement group discussed the kidnappers, pausing briefly as breakfast was served. Jareau thought it almost macabre that she and her friends would eat this morning while evaluating dangerous men, takers of innocent girls and probably, the murderers of several other people, and who had tried to blame those deaths on a fanciful giant ape. Life is strange; she reflected and paid more attention to what Hotchner was saying.

"So, we see that whoever is doing this has to have a job that gives him reasonable freedom to take these women in broad daylight and transport them to wherever they're being held and keep them since. That's not a man who has to keep regular hours at work. And it probably infers that the person or persons aren't married. They couldn't keep the girls captive without a spouse becoming aware of it."

"What if one of these buckos is taking care of the girls and his mate comes and goes as needed? The videos said that the girls were being kept in cells. If that's so, they couldn't wander around and wouldn't have to be attended all the time. There may well be some schedule flexibility there, and one fellow may spell the other. They'd only need to be together at certain times. We've seen cases where serial murderers were married before." Blacklaws thought that seemed reasonable.

"Maybe," said a dubious Rossi. "I think it's likely that these men are single and they may have been driven to do this because they don't socialize well and had to take the girls to have, well, feminine company. I think they're antisocial, and probably also have a resentment of others who are more socially or financially successful than they are."

"I think they may be kind of ugly or fat or something, too," interjected Morgan. He had decided to keep a relatively low profile, but he was still on the job and he wasn't about to be upstaged by the tall South African who looked like a swashbuckling movie hero.

"They'd need to be fairly powerful physically," noted Reid. "The girls aren't as strong as men, but they'd be a handful for a man not pretty large and in good shape. They're being held as prisoners, not killed from ambush by a possibly smaller killer. And they may have had to be carried from a vehicle to where they are now. Probably, both men or however many there are participated in the actual kidnapping and transportation of the women. My guess is that at least one man is about six feet and both are probably fairly young, but old enough to have their heads on straight. They aren't impulsive. They planned well and are what we call 'organized' criminals. They planned in advance and brought the rope, gags, and whatever else they needed. They had a preplanned site to take the girls. This was hardly a spur of the moment thing, like an unorganized Unsub might do, if he stumbled across a chance to take a pretty girl."

"What's an 'Unsub'?" asked Hso. "You guys have used that term several times in the last couple of days."

Hotchner answered. "Sorry. It's just our jargon or tradespeak. It means, Unknown Subject. I think it's limited to the BAU. It's not used Bureau-wide."

"Nope," agreed Bill Waters. "I've been in the FBI for 12 years and in several field offices and I've never heard it."

Back to the profile," said Jareau, "I think we can agree that we're dealing with one or more men who are socially unsuccessful but who are capable of bonding to do something like this. What do you guys think: Is one dominant and the other his assistant? Father and son? An older and a younger brother? Some similar arrangement? They'd have to trust each other an awful lot to embark on a project like this. And they've probably been killing those other victims. Why did they suddenly switch from murder to kidnapping?"

"And where did they see the girls they took?" Seaver felt that she should contribute to the profiling. "Courtney worked in an environment where men saw her and might covet her. But she was taken at the same library where the other girl disappeared. She wasn't accosted in the parking lot of that strip club. And Melissa worked at an ice cream store, not generally a high-risk position where she'd be seen and targeted by kidnapers. But both did have jobs where the public could see them and both are blonde and about the same height, five feet seven inches. One has green eyes and one blue. But they're basically similar and are only a year apart in age. "

"Neither is a high risk person," continued Morgan. "They don't do dope, as far as we know. Courtney was having sex, but maybe only with her boyfriend and he checks out okay. They didn't hang out with lowlife. Both families are either rich or upper middle class. I guess that if they knew the families, the goons knew they could afford at least a pretty high ransom. But we still have them targeting these particular girls a week apart and taking them from the same location, in late afternoon. They were expecting them there then or they followed them and grabbed them at that library. That's pretty daring. It's a reasonably busy library. They could easily have been seen."

"Agreed," commented Rossi. "And that tells us that they are bold and aggressive. They may even like to challenge Fate. They made those videos and called to tell us where to find them. They didn't know at the time that the phone company was tracking those phones even before one girl called the station and told the officer on the desk where to find the phones. But they knew to keep the batteries out of the phones until just before they put them where they were found. They couldn't be tracked until then, So, they know cell phone technology well. They used the features to make the videos and they knew that we could track the phones even if turned off unless the batteries were pulled. They're sophisticated, technically skilled, and have a vehicle that will let them move the girls around without being seen. I'm thinking a van or an SUV. But they could have just dumped each girl in the trunk of a normal sedan. That library doesn't have cameras in the parking lot, and I bet they knew that. So, we have no real idea of what they're driving."

"I'm betting that it's a white van," said Ford. "After all, it seems as if we're always looking for a white van for involvement in some crime. Why not this one?"

That produced some grins, for anyone in law enforcement knew that feeling. Some who'd been on the job for a few years probably felt they could retire if they had a dollar for every white van for which they'd heard an alert.

"More likely than a red Ferrari, "agreed Hotchner. He was glad that the sheriff had a sense of humor. And that his own quip had produced some smiles. They paused as the waitresses came and brought more coffee in thermal jugs. Reid took the opportunity to ask for more maple syrup, his favorite and one that was depleted at their table.

"I just realized something," said Reid. "I noticed those handcuffs that Melissa was wearing. They've been in my mind and it just hit me that they're a type called Irish 8's, an older form that doesn't use ratcheting locks like modern adjustable cuffs do. They have to be the right size to fit the victim's wrists. They just pivot shut and lock from the side, maybe with a lock on each side in some. The advantage is that they hold the captive's wrists really close together, with no links between the bracelets. They give more control that way and if applied upright like these were, they can be used to fasten the girl's hands at waist height. There's no chance they can slip their hands around in front and the ability to flail around and jab an elbow in a captor's stomach is lessened."

Jareau smiled, her eyes twinkling as she teased the Boy Wonder of their number. "Why, Spencer, I didn't think you were the type to know so much about handcuffing women. How did you learn all of this stuff?"

"He has a point," observed Rossi. "And if these guys had those specialized cuffs now used mainly by people who are into collecting restraints or into BDSM, that's a clue to who they are. The public doesn't know about those things. Maybe if they are gamers in some medieval fantasy or saw them in paintings of pirates about to be hanged, they'd have seen them. But I bet it's mainly hardcore bondage freaks that use them now; I know they're still made. I stumbled across an ad video for them on the Net while I was looking for something else. We can call the makers most likely to have sold them to someone in Elk Pass. "

"Useful point," admitted Hotchner. "Ashley? Will you and Peter take care of that after you finish checking for lingerie purchases?"

Seaver and Blacklaws looked at one another and both blushed a little, especially Seaver.

"Hotch; I don't know who sells stuff like that. Are they in the Yellow Pages under Handcuffs or Restraints? "Seaver blushed again as she saw a couple of the men smiling at her.

"They advertise on the Net," said Blacklaws. "I've seen listings there. But there are a whole lot of sex toy shops that sell them. Might be hard to isolate them and see who has customers here. We could start with some of the few manufacturers. I think I know the main brand. I had a case where a suspect was into B&D and he had literature, catalogs. Had a lot of that sort of thing on his computer. One firm has a rather attractive blonde model that wears their products and narrates them on YouTube. We can start there."

"Call Garcia," urged Morgan. "She can find anything. And this will amuse her. She needs to do something useful to look better since I got her in trouble. Why not this?"

"All right," said Hotchner. "Morgan, you call her and give her the details and have her call Ashley when she has something worthwhile. This may be a useful avenue to explore. Grant, I don't suppose that any shops here sell such items?"

The sheriff shook his had. "Not that I know of. Not enough people into games that'd buy them, probably. But someone sure might mail order some. Are these novelty toys that are mainly props in sex play or are they serious items?"

Blacklaws shrugged. "I rather fancy that depending on the quality, that could go either way. But I feel sure that some are very well made and are as effective as the style ever was. I don't expect that these kidnappers bought the toy sort. I have a feeling that they're very serious about their equipment. I wonder what else they acquired to restrain these girls and where they're being held. It has to be in a quiet basement or in an outlying area, where if they screamed, no one would hear. But that leaves a lot of territory. And another thing, Sheriff: are we going to show the girls' families those videos and let them see their daughters humiliated that way, begging for their ransom? But they have a right to know what's happened."

"That's a damned good question, Peter. I'll finish thinking about it and tell you this afternoon. Until I decide, don't anyone tell them that we have news in the case."

Sometimes Grant Ford hated his job. It brought responsibilities that he'd rather avoid.

He shook his head ruefully and said, "This is just a hell of a situation. But we'll get to the bottom of it. I just hope that we're in time to save those families any further grief."


	15. Chapter 15

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 15

As Blacklaws and Seaver drove away in Blacklaws's patrol car, he turned to her and said that he wanted to run by his house and change into civilian clothes. "I'm not going to run around in lingerie shops in uniform," he explained. "We can use this car and park out in the lots by the stores and no one will associate a cop car with us inside the stores. By the way, is it PC acceptable to tell you that you look rather smashing today?"

Seaver blushed. She thought that she did look rather good in a black tee shirt, fairly tight jeans and a fawn blazer to provide just enough warmth and to hide the gun on her right hip. Her feet wore dark brown hand sewn boat shoes.

"It's acceptable, "she admitted. "I'm glad that you think I'm hot. It probably makes me seem less like a federal agent at work. Maybe it'll relax people more and get them to tell us things if we don't seem too official."

"A good point" he agreed. "Look here, when we get to my place, you can either wait in the car or if you trust me not to make a pass, you can come in and I'll make you a nice cup of tea while I change. And you can see my house and tell me if you like it, are revolted, or are just indifferent."

"That sounds good," she said. "Actually, I haven't had hot tea in ages, and I sort of like it. Is this English style?"

"The tea is from British firms, and I have several sorts, that is, from different growing regions. You may like a good Darjeeling, from NE India. Or, I have Ceylon, Irish blend, and a couple of herbals. Twining's Rooibos or Honeybush with Mandarin. The bouquet from the latter is especially nice. I think you'll be quite impressed. Or, if you prefer actual tea, one of the others has the caffeine that you may want for a mid-morning pick-up."

When they were in his home, Seaver followed the tall officer to his kitchen, which she thought was especially clean for that of a single man. And she was impressed at the selection of tea boxes, with a couple of choices of loose tea in cans.

"Bags are fine," she said. "If you'll put on some water, I'll keep an eye on things while you change. Good gosh! What _is_ that fish on the wall?!"

She was staring at a fish mounted on the wood paneled wall approaching the kitchen.

"Tiger fish," he explained. "Looks a bit like your striped bass, except for the arsenal in its mouth, eh? I caught it back in Africa. They fight hard and if you mount one with the mouth open, they're good for terrifying guests, especially impressionable young girls." He grinned to show that he was teasing. "Seriously, it doesn't do to let one bite you. That tends to leave a lasting impression. That one weighed about 15 pounds. I've caught larger, but we couldn't bring everything from home when we moved to the USA. Well, look around and listen for the tea kettle to whistle. I'll just be a few moments. By the by, I'll have Ceylon Orange Pekoe tea, the Twining's brand. If you'll look in the second cabinet to the right of the sink, you'll find cups. I want one with a leopard image on it. Choose whatever you like, but most have African or North American animals on them and my glasses have mainly game birds or fish. My late wife used to call them my kitchen menagerie. There are conventional crystal glasses if you'd rather."

"Oh, the ducks are pretty," she announced. "I'll get one with wood ducks on it, if I may. My word, these are so realistic! Are they designed by real wildlife artists. Specialists? ?"

"Yes, and I hand wash them to prevent the dishwasher from fading the pictures. I'll answer your other questions in a moment. Feel free to wander and see the place. I do love it."

Seaver paused to admire two tall elephant tusks that framed a doorway and gazed with some astonishment at the mounted head of a huge Cape buffalo and a couple of lion and leopard skins on walls. She noted with amusement that there was a black bear hide and decided to tell JJ Jareau about it later. A calendar on the kitchen wall showed trout, painted by a remarkably talented fish artist named Joseph R. Tomelleri. Seaver learned this from notations on the calendar, which discussed each trout and its habitat, etc. The pictures were almost alive in their detail and realism.

She made the tea and found sugar, and then milk in the refrigerator. When Peter appeared in a few moments, he was dressed in nice tan slacks with a white dress shirt with thin blue lines. A navy blue blazer was slung over one shoulder. His shoes were dark brown hand sewn casuals , probably Timberlands. But she asked and he explained that the shoes were really from Allen Edmonds, a somewhat exclusive brand not as widely sold, but of very high quality.

"Both Presidents Bush wear the brand, I think," he amplified, "or at least George W. does. I saw a framed letter from him in the store. I say, you make a nice cup of tea. Would you like a granola bar with this? I've some in the cupboard behind you."

They talked awhile and finished their tea. Seaver enjoyed that he was quick witted, with a wry, droll sense of humor. She decided that she had been right to like him. Morgan's resentment was probably racially based and/or a matter of one alpha male disliking another strong male presence. That aspect didn't trouble her. Like many women, Ashley Seaver rather liked strong, handsome men, especially if they didn't act aggressively and had a sense of humor. She saw why women liked this man and felt protected by him.

"Hadn't we better go?" she asked after most of an hour had passed. "Stores should be open by now." She noticed that he'd exchanged the Beretta on his duty belt for a Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum that reminded her of Reid's gun, but with a barrel an inch longer and with an enclosed extractor rod housing under the barrel and with adjustable sights.

"Model 66," he explained when she asked about it. "I noticed that Reid has the plainer Model 65. I like this better than a big automatic when I wear a suit and the holster is not only handsome, it hides the gun well under my jacket. And now: shall we, my lady? Off to shop for sheer lacies, with a girl who could model them! This is the best day that I've had at work in ages!"

Seaver blushed and laughed as they locked the door and went down the sidewalk across a nice green lawn to his car.

On impulse, he drove to a famous lingerie store that sold such additional items as bath soaps, fragrances, towels, and other niceties. "It's the best known such shop, so probably the one most likely to have sold the items that we're looking for," he explained. "I'm not going here in hopes of meeting their spokesmodels. If they were in town, it'd be in the paper and on the TV news."

In the mall, they asked at the counter about the lingerie, showing the clerk what they wanted.

"I'm not sure we have quite these styles," she said, "but if you look on aisles three and five, we do have very similar styles, and we have a sale this week and next. It's 30% off! You came at a good time."

Blacklaws produced his badge and explained the purpose of their visit, and the girl blanched and said, "Oh, you mean this girl in the pictures isn't your lady friend here? If she wants to shop for a few minutes, I'll get Connie out of the back. She's the manager and if we have those styles, she'd know where and may recall selling them."

Connie came out, saw the official ID's and seemed impressed, especially by Seaver's FBI credentials. "Is this about that missing girls case on the news? I'd like to help, but we don't carry that line. The good news is, I know who in Elk Pass does. And it's exclusive, so you won't have to traipse all over every department store in town trying to see who may have sold some recently. I was at a trade show and saw those products and I know who carries them here. Do you know where Donna's Intimates is, on Forest Glade Drive? Donna McLaren owns it and we're friends, even if competitors. Can I call her and see if she's sold any? The line is from France, and its called _Amour d' Nuit_. She carries these two and several similar styles. They're pretty expensive and kind of sensual, for casual wear. And they're new this season. She may just remember if she sold any to a man. But a lot of our customers and hers are men, of course. "She laughed and cast a knowing eye at Seaver, who blushed and said nothing. Yes, she knew that such items were often gifts from men who wanted to see their ladies wear them.

"Thanks, but don't call. We'd rather just drive over to see her and let her look at the pictures to be sure she understands what we're looking for." Blacklaws doubted that either shop owner was an accessory to the crimes but wanted to see McLaren's face as he announced the purpose of their visit. If she covered for anyone, he thought he might be able to sense it.

The investigators soon found their way to Donna's Intimates and found Donna to be a pretty, intelligent woman who seemed very well informed about her stock. "Yes," she said on seeing the photos." I know just those two styles and I think we did sell a few since they came in maybe three weeks ago."

"Julie!" she called and a fashionable looking college girl who worked part time at the shop came over and looked at the pictures and thought.

After a few moments, she nodded. "You know, I sold five sets of several styles, not all black, from that _Amour d'Nuit_ line. And a few other pieces from other lines, some of the better sale items, too. I mean, I sold them to this one guy, who I don't think was buying for his wife. I just don't think he's married. Maybe he's dating some chick who got them. He's kind of scary, so I remember him. I used to go in his store with my dad, and I've never liked him. He always undressed me with his eyes and I think he and his employees discussed me and my sister when we left. Have you met guys like that, Agent Seaver? Who just sort of make your skin crawl? I mean I sort of like guys checking me out; I'd feel bad if they didn't look. But there's a certain quality to the way some men do it, and it makes you feel a little afraid and like you'd just been naked in public?"

Seaver nodded and looked at Blacklaws. Yes, she knew that feeling. It had visited her many times since puberty. She looked at her companion as he spoke.

That gentleman said, "You mentioned his store? Is he a merchant in Elk Pass?"

Julie nodded. "Yeah, he owns Acme Hardware on Main St. His dad had it before him. Now, look, officers, I'm not saying that he kidnapped those girls on the news, but he did buy bras and panties here that are precisely those styles and I haven't sold any in that quantity to anyone else, and the other customers were all women except for Mr. Meadows, my English teacher. It was kind of embarrassing waiting on him, but he seems like a nice guy, and I know he's married. I've seen him and his wife eating out and at the grocery store a few times. She's hot. I bet she looks great in that lingerie. They're a cute couple. I don't think he'd do anything bad. But if this is a clue you're looking for, I'd say that Mike Bamka, the hardware store guy, is worth looking into. But don't you dare say that I said so. I'm really a little afraid of him."

The officers assured the women that they'd not mention Julie's recognizing Bamka unless she was needed to testify in court that he'd bought the items in the video clips.

"Deputy Blacklaws, can we help in any other way?" asked Donna. "I think it's just terrible that he may have taken those girls. Is this one in the No. 2104 style bra maybe Courtney Cassidy? The face is blurred but I've seen her in here with her mom and sister and around town. She seems like such a nice girl, and my husband has our home and auto insurance with her dad's company."

The deputy told the ladies that he could reveal no more, but that if Bamka returned, to just wait on him normally, note what he bought, and to call the sheriff's office and ask to speak to him. He gave each of them his card, jotting his cell phone number on the back.

"Remember," he cautioned, "This man may not be involved in the kidnappings. He could just have found a girlfriend or maybe he was running an errand for his sister or something when he came in here."

Donna and Julie looked at one another and shook their heads. "Nope," said Julie with conviction. "This guy was buying for someone he expected to see wear those things and I'm sure it wasn't his sister, if he has one. Not unless they have an incestuous relationship. Hey, Agent Seaver: we still have some other examples of those and other styles from that line. It really is nice lingerie. If I can get Deputy Blacklaws a cup of coffee, Donna or I can show you some things from that line and a few items that are on sale this week. As long as you're in here…"

Blacklaws seemed amused. "Sure, I could do with a cup of coffee," he said. "If one of you ladies will talk to me, the other can help Ashley here."

Seaver rolled her eyes and nudged her partner lightly in the ribs. "Never mind, ladies. He's just trying to make me blush. I may be back later, on my own time. But we'd better go now. We have some other leads to check out."

As they left the shop, she said, "Well, Peter, that went nicely, and I think that both Donna and Julie enjoyed meeting you, in case you find yourself short of dating material. "

"Donna's married. Has a ring on and mentioned her husband," he protested. "I don't even try for married ladies. That way is fraught with guilt and potential ruin."

"Didn't you promise me lunch at someplace nicer than a McDonald's?" she queried, looking at him with a smile. "You never know, you might get somewhere with me if you feed me. I could be even more fun than Julie if I wanted, I bet." She laughed at his faint flush coupled with a wry grin.

"Off to dine, it is, then: I'll call us in as on lunch break. Look, this Mike Bamka is sort of a sleazy macho fellow, but a lot of men look at foxy girls like Julie and talk about them when they leave. But we can look to see if anything else about him suggests that he's a suspect. And we think there are two men, remember. Maybe one of his employees is in on this."

They hit pay dirt sooner than expected. As they were finishing their meal at the same restaurant where they'd first met, Seaver's phone rang. She glanced at her dinner partner and said, "I'd better take this. It's our computer tech, Penelope Garcia. Hi, Penelope. What's up back at Quantico? Yes, I'm sitting down. I'm having lunch with this actually pretty handsome detective deputy who generously offered to feed me at a quite nice restaurant for the frontier boondocks."

She listened for a moment, said goodbye to Garcia, and looked excitedly at Blacklaws. "Guess what, Peter? Remember that Morgan was going to get Garcia to run a check to see if anyone in Elk Pass has ordered any Irish 8 cuffs or other restraints lately? Well, someone has, quite a few chains, regular handcuffs, shackles, and the like. Even a couple of chastity belts with rings on the sides to attach handcuffs! And guess who that customer was? A man named Michael R. Bamka! And Garcia has his address."


	16. Chapter 16

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Sixteen

The agents and the sheriff's crew debated what to do with this knowledge. Was ordering restraints and buying lingerie alone enough evidence for a search warrant?

Jareau and Morgan argued, "yes", but Sheriff Ford was less sanguine. "Judge Willett is a liberal who likes the cops to have good, solid evidence before he signs a warrant. I can try him with this, but if we can think of anything at all else that would cast suspicion on this guy, we need to have it. Also, if he has the girls, where's he keeping them? Let's check the computer for his address and drive by casually and check out the property and see if it looks like it has a likely storage area where he can sequester them. A basement might do, but if there's any housing out back, that might qualify, I want to know. Aaron, please assign an agent to ride with one of my patrols and we'll do that this afternoon, before it gets too dark. Hell, I'll come, myself. And let's bring cameras and try to get subtle photos without being seen. We'll enlarge and study those and see what we think."

"Sheriff," argued Jareau, "those girls are in danger right now. The sooner we move on this, the more likely we are to prevent them from being harmed or further abused."

Grant Ford remembered her nickname. "Look, JJ, I know that. I've been doing police work for quite a few years now, and I'm mindful of our responsibilities. But I also know that if we muff this and get a warrant and don't find anything, that'll set off some serious trouble for the young ladies. They might be killed before we get any closer. As-is, we can hope that those messages about them being held as continuing sex slaves and captives for ransom will protect them from immediate harm. The creeps who have them are probably having too much fun with them to kill them unless they see us moving in toward them. Aaron? "

Hotchner nodded. "It's a tough call, JJ, but Grant is probably right. Morgan, get Garcia on the phone and get her cracking on anything that she can dig up on this guy Bamka and any property he may own other than his house here in Elk Pass. We'll head over with cameras and see what we can get that way. I may send someone to shop that hardware store and get a feel for it."

"You don't want to go to the store and brace him and demand to know why he has that fancy women's underwear and those chains?" Morgan was eager to aggress, as usual.

"No, Derek. That is the last thing I want just now, when we probably don't have enough to hold this man and might set off his partners, who'd kill the girls and dispose of the bodies if they see an investigation closing in on them." Hotchner hoped that Morgan wasn't going to have a tantrum at this crucial point.

Ford looked at a deputy. "Ted, get us an unmarked car and you, Aaron and whoever he wants among his staff and I will take a casual drive by the house as soon as we locate it. Winston, I'm guessing that you can find that out before their Miss Garcia back in Virginia does. Get on it."

Winston Hso nodded, and they were discussing what to do other than what had been discussed when another senior deputy stuck his head in the room. "Sheriff," he said, "I think we need to talk, right now. Something's come up that may affect what you do next."

Ford stepped out into the hall to confer with this man. Morgan took the opportunity to go to a corner of the room and call Garcia and outline what they needed from her. Hso went to his computer.

After a few moments, Ford stepped back into the room and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a complication that may or may not be connected to this kidnapping. A couple of German tourists hiking in the forest about 30 miles from here have found a body that was ravaged by what they think may be a bear. But, and this is the real doozie here, they report seeing large hominid tracks by the body and leading away, back toward the stream where they were going to fish.

"This is obviously a bad time for this to happen, while we're so busy here. Peter, I want you, Dick Travis, and the ME's team to beat feet up there and see what you can find out. Take some good, sharp photos of these tracks. See if your scientist friend can join you. Stay up there overnight if you have to until he can arrive and give an opinion. Keep any animals or gawkers away from those tracks and the crime scene. Better pack some gear in case you need to stay a day or two or pursue any indicated suspects. In fact, take food and whatnot for at least three days. You're an experienced outdoorsman. I don't need to tell you what all to take. I just hope this will be a break in this case. By the way, the body is male, so it isn't one of the missing girls. Dispatch has already sent two units there to find the tourists, who are understandably pretty shaky. They're afraid to be there alone, and I can hardly blame them. See Dispatch for the exact location, as close as the tourists could describe it. By the time you arrive, our advance units can radio you how to get there, once you're close. Aaron, are you sending any agents? They can carpool with us to avoid getting lost up there. That's pretty wild country. "

Waters raised a hand. "I'd like to go. I'm an experienced hunter and I can track, and the idea of this Bigfoot thing intrigues me. "

Hotchner thought quickly. Waters was the logical agent to send, but he wanted some of his own team there.

His quandary was quickly solved when Seaver asked to go. "I can stay with Peter and learn what this is, and we work well together. He can tell me what to bring. Please, Hotch? This is getting really exciting."

Hotchner nodded, and told Reid to accompany them. "You can go, too, Bill. We'll man the fort here with me, Rossi, and Morgan. Chances are, you'll be back before we get a warrant and make any plans to raid that property. Take care. JJ, you can stay here, too. I don't want you exposed to any bear attacks." He smiled to show that he was teasing.

But Jareau was thoughtful. "Sheriff, is there any reason to think that this was definitely a murder? Maybe it really is just a bear attack."

Ford shrugged. "Could be. That 's why I'm sending my best man to determine that and sending a wildlife biologist, too. And Agent Waters is also going to be able to help determine just what we have there. Bill, I'm glad you're along on this trip. Remember, you guys: take lots of pictures. Okay, let's get this show on the road. Aaron, if you'll come with me, we'll see if Hso has found that address location yet and any other suspicious land holdings. Good luck, everyone. I think things will move forward now, whether these other murders and the girls' kidnappings are related or not."

They rose and JJ Jareau noticed the look exchanged between Ashley Seaver and Peter Blacklaws. It seemed to include both anticipation and a certain anxiety about what was to come. Then, both smiled and Blacklaws gestured to Reid and Waters to join them as they left the conference room.

As he went out the door, Reid looked at Jareau and quipped, "I'll try to bring you a bear rug, JJ. Think if you want to hang it in the living room or your bedroom at home."

"Whoa!" exclaimed Rossi on seeing JJ's reaction. "Now, THAT was an unladylike gesture!


	17. Chapter 17

Murder in the Forest: Chapter 17

They decided to take one of the shorter Bureau vehicles, a Ford Explorer, as black as a demented Unsub's heart. Their second vehicle was the white Toyota Four-Runner assigned to Blacklaws. The Explorer held radios and a 12-gauge Remington shotgun with a synthetic stock and extended magazine. Reid checked to be sure that it also had a Heckler and Koch 10 mm carbine, just a larger semi-auto version of their basic MP-5 submachine gun. There was one of those, too, in the usual 9mm caliber, and several boxes of ammunition for each.

Quickly checking the Ford, they discovered some military Meals, Ready to Eat (MRE's) and bottled water. Three USAF survival knives with pockets for hones on the leather sheaths, a pair of USMC Ka-Bar combat-utility knives and a couple of all-metal US-marked pocketknives having the same sort of blades as a typical Boy Scout knife, canteens, a tent, blankets, and a few other items. Military style lensatic compasses...that sort of thing.

Bill Waters went to the Bureau car in which he'd ridden to Elk Pass and got his personal rifle, a Winchester bolt-action .30/06, a Buck brand Model 119 hunting knife, and some other personal items, including an excellent 8.5X44 Swift roof prism binocular, their Custom Audubon model. He also had suitable hunting clothes and boots. He had come prepared, knowing that he might get a chance to go after a real Bigfoot or maybe a bear.

Blacklaws called his biologist friend Christaan van Reenan to be sure that the sheriff had requested his help and they compared notes on where to meet.

At Peter's home, Ashley acted as hostess, making a pot of tea. At his request, she used loose tea from a can, Taylor's of Harrogate's English Breakfast blend. It was popular with everyone and Peter opened a box of Kellogg's raspberry fruit bars.

The others waited until Peter had changed into comfortable hunting clothes, which he decided to wear instead of his uniform, and donned Danner hunting boots. He took spare boots and other clothes and replaced the holster on his belt with a black police style gun belt that had, besides a holster, pouches for handcuffs, a Gerber Applegate-Fairbairn lock blade folding knife, and speedloaders for his stainless steel Smith & Wesson .357 revolver. He had decided to take it instead of his Beretta. He also took a dark green zipper pouch with a Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum revolver, with six-inch barrel, Model 629-3, and suitable leather gear and ammunition.

"If we really get into an affair with a Bigfoot or a big bear, I'll swap out the Model 66 for the big .44, "he explained. "Otherwise, it's a bit heavy to wear continuously, although that weight helps with the considerable recoil. Still, it's very accurate and you'd be surprised how far out I can hit a human size target with it. I've killed deer with it, and think its 240 grain bullets will probably penetrate the vital zones on a Bigfoot if one attacks. I know that .44 Magnums have killed bears, even a few big Kodiak browns and some polar bear. One polar bear that got cropped by a man with an S&W .44 Magnum was shot by a Norwegian scientist as it stalked him. It was shoot or die, but letters to a popular travel and science magazine were largely from softheaded animal huggers who were dismayed that he shot the bruin! Have Disney and other animal crap programming appealing to people who think that all animals are sweet and here to entertain tourists penetrated so many peoples' brains and turned them to mush? Sorry to rant a bit, but some of this TV programming gives an unrealistic view of Nature. It causes some ninnies to get out of their cars in national parks and approach bears, moose, bison, elk. and other potentially very dangerous animals. Granted, they're acclimated to people in the parks and act unlike their normal behavior. Still, it takes an idiot to do something like that. I say, Ashley, have we got any tea left? Packing for the wilderness is thirsty work."

She laughed and brought a refill for his cup. He looked into her eyes and smiled and Seaver blushed. He was growing on her, she realized, and decided to try to get him alone and talk more once they reached the crime scene. She realized with a shock that she was wondering how good a kisser he might be.

"You taking a rifle?" asked Bill Waters.

Blacklaws nodded and opened a gun safe that held a number of rifles. He took out a Winchester Model 70 Classic Featherweight .270 identical to Waters' rifle, except for the slightly lighter caliber and being factory equipped on special order with iron sights as well as wearing a Leupold 2.5-8X telescopic sight. He hefted it briefly, and then said that although it'd probably suffice to kill either Bigfoot or bear with its 150 grain Nosler Partition controlled expansion bullets, it wouldn't hurt to have a little added insurance in the form of a heavier rifle.

This turned out to be another Model 70, with fancy wood from the company's Custom Shop, in the Safari Grade, in .375 H&H Magnum caliber. "I've got a grandfather's .416 Rigby in there, too," he explained, "but I'll be amazed if a .375 won't drop anything in North America. It's really overkill for most game, although a sound choice for moose, elk, or big bear. I've never shot an American bison, although some hunts for them are available on private lands, with herds carefully maintained there. Anyway, I've got a 2.0-X-6X 'scope on this that'll let me shoot at anywhere from a few yards range to at least 300 yards. And if the scope fogs or otherwise malfunctions, the iron sights will certainly suffice at the ranges a Bigfoot is likely to be a menace. I do hope that one won't throw rocks or branches from a distance. But if it looks like we're at risk from that sort of behavior, either Bill or I should be able to end those shenanigans in short order."

Reid said that he was more concerned about a Bigfoot picking him up and pulling off his head or breaking his back. "I'm keeping that H-K 10mm close to me on this trip," he vowed. "Ashley, you can carry the shotgun."

Seaver rolled her eyes. "I think you're trying to scare me, Spencer. I've been in the FBI long enough to know that a lot of male agents like to razz us girls. Some are just mean chauvinists who don't really like the idea of female agents. Others are just wise guys who tell me that I look pretty when I'm frightened. But I and other female agents have learned to dread those slug-loaded 12 gauges. They kick like a ghetto father who's been made to pay his child support! I have to qualify with one when required, but I'm not going to voluntarily fire one if I don't have to. Can I kill one of those monsters with my pistol? And where do you aim to kill something that big?"

"What do you carry, a Glock 9mm or .40 caliber?" This from Waters, who knew the authorized FBI guns. He detested the issue Glocks, and any private purchases these days had to conform to the issued models. Agents had once had a much wider choice, if willing to buy their own sidearms.

"Yeah," replied Seaver. "A Glock 19 on my belt and the small G-26 as a spare. I need to swing by the motel and get that and some more suitable clothes before we go to view this crime scene. And I'd better charge my cell phone. I have the charger there, too."

"Well, if I had to kill a beast that size with a handgun, I'd try a high center mass shot or two, like I would on a person. If that didn't work, I'd shoot for the eyes or the nose, hoping to brain the beggar. Depending on how thick and tough the facial bones are, that nose shot into the brain should work. But, look, Ashley, let me lend you something more potent than a handgun. Bear or Bigfoot, you can use a rifle more effectively. I've got a Ruger .308 M-77 with full length International stock. Makes it look like the old Mannlicher-Schoenauer carbine at a glance. Mine has a low power 'scope and the factory iron sights. It may or may not be sighted just right for your eyes and we haven't time to go to a shooting range and see. But if one of those animals is really after you, the range will be so close that ultra precise sighting won't be a factor. Try the rifle and see if the stock fits. Or, now that I think of it, my late wife's rifle is in this safe. It's a Howa 7mm-08 and the black synthetic stock is sized for a woman or teen. Let's try that first."

The Howa rifle fit Seaver well, and they set out some ammunition, a Silva Type 426 compass and a Zeiss 8X20B monocular for her to borrow.

"Knife," said Blacklaws. "You don't want to wander around out there without one." He opened a cedar chest that held his hunting and pocket knives and let her look at the selection. Peter hefted his Fallkniven NL-2, a virtual Bowie style, but decided that it's eight-inch blade and weight weren't needed for this trip. He chose an A-1 model from the same Swedish firm, with the Kydex sheath since replaced in production by a Zytel one and offered Seaver either a Buck Model 105 Pathfinder or a couple of Puma brand German options, She was enchanted by the lovely grain of the genuine stag antler handle on a Hunter's Pal model, with a four-inch blade.

"Very well," said her host. "I think enough of you to loan that knife, but it's an older one that's a little better made than current models and I hand dyed and polished that sheath. Try not to scratch it and if you have to use a knife on a Bigfoot, try to stick it in the inner leg, going for the femoral artery. Or stick the top of the shoulder, going for the subclavian artery or the throat. It may be too fast and have too deep a chest for a heart stab, although I know of one chap who killed an African lion with a six-inch blade. "(This is true: Harry Wolhuter, in Kruger National Park, in 1903. Search for info on him and that incident.)

He distributed Swiss Army knives to both Reid and Seaver, for pocket utility knife needs. Waters showed his: already carrying one, always did.

Blacklaws got his Leica 8X32BA binocular and a larger Zeiss 10X56B/GA glass for long range and night use. He added a few more items, including King Oscar brand Norwegian brisling sardines that had Seaver grimacing in disgust, sardines not being a favorite food of many women. He laughed, added some wheat and peanut butter crackers, tuna, and some other food items, and they carefully loaded his vehicle, locked up the home, and were off to her motel.

Seaver soon packed all that she might need and recovered her phone from the charger, where it had been topped up. She wondered when she'd again see this room and be able to recharge that I-Phone. Reid also got personal items from his room.

They got into the vehicles, Seaver riding with Blacklaws. She looked at the Howa 7mm rifle in its hard case in the back seat floorboard and wondered whether she'd have occasion to fire it at a Bigfoot, a kidnapper, a murderer, or a bear. She laughed as she fastened her seatbelt.

At Blacklaws's inquiring expression, she said," I was just thinking. If I do have to shoot a real bear, I am so going to tease JJ about it. I can't wait to see her face if we do have to kill one."

He smiled back. "If we must, we will. But that probably won't be an issue. It's rare, but happens. By the way, look out for rattlesnakes up there. We have Northern Pacific Rattlesnakes here, and they're dangerous. Watch where you walk and don't put your hands into any brush or under rock overhangs without looking first. If it gets dark, remember I gave you a good flashlight. Don't go galloping round at dusk or dawn without seeing what's in your path. That sort of thing aside, enjoy nature. It's quite beautiful in those woods. And if we're still up there tonight, we'll find a clear place and do some amateur astronomy. That's one of my hobbies."

"You make this seem almost like a vacation," observed Reid, in the back seat. "What about our real purpose in going out there? Someone got killed! Maybe by a bear or by a supposedly mythical monster! And you want to talk about looking at stars!?"

"Oh, I'm taking all of this seriously, old boy," conceded the tall deputy. "But I look for joy where I find it, even on the job. Besides, looking at stars can be romantic. But it's Ashley whose help I want with that that, not yours. You can sit in camp with Bill Waters and maybe a few others and fret about the killer or killers. That's a lovely thing to contemplate just before bedtime, eh?"

"The Moon may be full, "Seaver speculated. She had decided to join Peter in teasing the usually rather strait-laced Dr. Reid. "I love a full moon. That really is romantic."

Reid rolled his eyes. "You two are just too funny," he said. "Can we at least stop for hamburgers on the way out of town? I guess we don't have time to go eat at a real restaurant?"

"No worries, chum, "acknowledged Blacklaws. "I'm headed for a burger place right now. It's really quite good. I especially like their chili cheeseburgers. Unlike many chain burger joints, this one gives you enough beef that you can see it without using a magnifying glass. And their fries are actually edible."

"Can I get a grilled chicken sandwich, instead?" asked Seaver.

"Indeed you can. They do quite well with that."

"Well, that's something, I guess," said Reid. "There's a lot to be said for a good grilled chicken sandwich, even when you're off to look at a mangled body."

"Thanks, Spencer," muttered Seaver. "That's a really appetizing thought."

Reid smirked. "I try to assist the investigation however I can."

Blacklaws laughed. "I see that our good doctor has a sense of humor, after all."

And he radioed the other vehicle to turn into the hamburger restaurant in the next block.


	18. Chapter 18

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 18

_Remember...this is a Mature Rated fic..._

Courtney Cassidy heard the door open and in a moment, a handcuffed Melissa was led down the stairs and locked in her cell. She looked frightened and ashamed, thought Courtney, hoping their captors weren't about to do to her whatever things Melissa had just endured.

The smaller kidnapper smacked Melissa on the rear and pushed her into the cage. "Your hands can stay locked behind you until we come for you later, dolly," he sneered. "And I suggest that you think how to improve stripping for us. Keep the undies on until you get told to remove them later. You look good in them, and you need to think how best to remove them when told."

He looked at Courtney. "Hey, hot stuff: you'd better start thinking of how to take off a bra and panties and look good doing it. In about an hour, we'll come get you and little Sweetie here and both you girls will get a chance to perform. Whichever of you strips best gets to sleep in her cell tonight with blankets and gets some chocolate and fruit. The other has to sleep on just a bare mattress and has to spend an hour or more in the pillory while we play with her before she gets to go to bed. Melissa, baby, tell your cute pal what you did wrong to feel that stick and maybe she can avoid goofing up like you did. Remember, you showgirls are expected to train well and be as perfect as possible. If not, and if we see that you aren't trying hard to please, you'll be punished. Tomorrow, there'll be a blow job contest and the winner gets a walk outside and we'll tether her to a pole on the lawn and let her get some sun. The other chick has to clean the house and dance for us. Try hard, girls. When you've been trained, things will ease off a little, provided that you don't get sloppy. I'm gonna go eat and watch a TV show. I'll be back and both of you girls had better be eager to please. Melissa, come here."

And when the young blonde approached the fence, he had her turn and lift her chained wrists slightly and played with her posterior, running his hands over it with evident relish. He ran his hand down the elastic waistband to her pale purple bikini panties and smirked as he fondled the frightened girl.

"Honey, you got one of the best bottoms any broad ever grew. Nice and tight and rounded just right. Just remember to shake it right when you dance and swing it a little more, and you'll have a fantastic walk. Ta, ladies. I'll see you in an hour or so." He shut the gate to Melissa's cell and locked it.

"Hey, wait," called Courtney. "I mean, please, master? When are we going to be fed? It's after six PM." There was a clock on a wall of the basement where they were confined. Courtney wondered if she'd ever see her own watch again, and it was a nice one, a TAG-Heuer ladies' sport model received as a high school graduation gift.

The cruel captor gazed thoughtfully at her, his brown eyes hard behind the hood. "If you do what's expected of you later, you can eat then. And it'll be a good meal for both of you. If we don't think you did well enough, you may go to bed hungry. Bye for now, sluts. "

He went up the stairs and the girls heard the door shut and the key turn in the lock. .

Courtney went at once to the fence separating the cells and asked quietly what had happened to her friend.

Melissa blushed scarlet and confided that she had been forced to put her hands on her head and prance around the room in circles as the men watched. "But I didn't lift my knees high enough on one circuit, and that bastard who was just down here hit me several times with a stick that looks like a thinner version of those wooden pointers that some teachers use in school. Damn, Courtney, that stings! If they make you prance, do it for all you're worth. They made me dance more, too, and they filmed it. They seem to really like seeing us do that. Why don't they just go to clubs and gawk at girls like other guys do?"

Courtney laughed. "I think they prefer naked dancers who look scared and move better than 90 % of the girls in clubs can. You're terrific, by the way. Even I like seeing you dance. If you don't get to be an actress, maybe you can dance in rock videos or something. You deserve a better place to perform than where I work. But if you ever need a job, they'd hire you at the Boobalicious in a heartbeat. You're totally hot. Does your mom know that you can wiggle like that bit where you really swung your tail and wriggled like something in a sailor's dream? I almost wished that I was a guy, so I'd enjoy it even more! Man, that was downright dirty! Or, totally hot, however you think of it."

Melissa laughed, blushed, and thanked Courtney for the compliment. "It was kind of fun to do and see their reaction. Guys like to see me move, I know. I got chewed out a couple of times for being too sexy in practice in the school talent rehearsals. The teacher told me to tone it down so the vice squad and the PTA mothers wouldn't come after us. But she was amused, too, I think".

"Are they going to give me some lingerie, too? He said something about a stripping contest. You've got that pretty lilac push-up bra and those cute panties. I like the way they did the lace on those. I'm as naked as a jaybird...except for these chains! Did they say what we have to do? Is it just taking off our underwear and doing it sexy, or what?" Courtney was apprehensive and she wanted to win that contest, although feeling sorry for Melissa if she did. She had grown to like the other girl and her wry humor and dry observations.

"Yeah," agreed Melisa. "I saw them lay out a black bra and panties for you. I think it's the same set that you wore when they filmed us for the phones. You look really good in them. Anyway, we have to stand with one knee out a little and reach back with both hands and unhook the bra while trying to look shy and submissive and very feminine. Look down some and then glance up a little and try to look embarrassed but proud and sensual. I didn't write this stuff, but they had me do it several times and explained what they wanted, and I was told to tell you. I had to practice in a mirror. I almost had to come down here and demonstrate, but they decided to leave my cuffs on and have me do a demo later, when we get back up there. Each of us gets to do five practice strips and then we have to do it for record or whatever, while they film us. They do like to take pictures! I had to pose for some stills, too, mostly while naked. Guess it's good practice in case we ever want to pose for, "Playboy". Some guys in my drama class told me to do that. Said I'd sell a lot of magazines. Do you think I have what it takes to be a centerfold, and should I? I mean, it might help my career or may hurt it. I don't know which."

Courtney thought and told Melissa that she was very pretty and that she could indeed be a centerfold, judging from those girls whose poses she'd seen in her father's and various boyfriends' copies of the magazine. "You probably have a shot at being Playmate of the Year, and they get paid a lot and may get a car. I forget whether they still get a car. But the loot would let you live for awhile as you look for acting jobs and you could model for them at car shows and personal appearances and stuff like that. I've thought of it, myself.

"Back to the bad guys, did they tell you anything else important? Like, are we still going to be released if our families can raise at least $100,000 each?"

Melissa looked down and said that they had discussed that. "They told me to expect to be here as a slave for maybe four to five years if we aren't released for ransom. Then, these guys will let us go when they leave town and go wherever they plan to when they move.

"The scary thing is, one told me when his partner couldn't hear that he might keep me and take me to South America and keep me a prisoner. He thinks he can pay off some officials there to look the other way and may even force me to tell people that we're married. How scary is that?"

"Plenty scary. It probably means that he's totally nuts. You know what else scares me, though? They had me locked In that wooden pillory this morning while they played with me, feeling me up and having their fun. The disgusting thing is, while I stood there, bent over, with my hands and neck locked in that thing, being felt up by two men who terrify me, I got turned on. I thought I might have an orgasm right there! And I think the shorter one knew and kept fondling me until the other reminded him that he needed to leave for whatever it is that he does everyday, other than molest captive girls, I mean. I think he was going to 'do' me, but decided to wait until later. He definitely had to be somewhere by ten this morning. Do you think I'm like nuts or really kinky to get turned on that way? Am I going crazy in here? I almost wished that he'd put it in me! "

Melissa looked carefully at her companion and replied, "No, Courtney, I've read about girls like that, although they usually just act out with their boyfriends. But you may also be driven to please them to avoid pain and more degradation. But I admit I can see why it turned you on, especially if it was that tall guy. He sort of gets to me when he looks at me and smirks like a swaggering man, so sure of his appeal to women. Maybe it's the power thing, where we're made to feel like we need to please them. With me, it's kind of a thrill to be admired and stared at. I like getting noticed by men. It goes with wanting to be an actress, I guess, but I've always dug being checked out by guys. It gives me kind of a tingle. Don't dare tell, if we ever get out of here. Okay? It's so embarrassing. My mother teases me about it, so I guess some people notice.. Am I a slut, or do you feel that way, at least if the guy looking is hot and looks like a real stud and confident?"

"Yeah, I totally know what you mean, Melissa. But look: there's something really important that I need to tell you in case you get rescued and I don't. And you just need to know, anyway. I just now decided to tell you, because I trust you now. I think I know who the tall man is. There's a guy named Howard Mason, who runs Mason Insurance Agency. He's a competitor of my dad and they don't like each other. I've met him several times at realtor conventions and in stores, and stuff like that. I know how he talks and walks and he makes me cringe like this man does. Remember, tell the cops to look for Howard Mason if you get a chance. I'm almost sure that it's him. I think he may have taken me to hurt my dad."

Melissa tried to turn her hands slightly in the cuffs, for more comfort, but they were snug and she couldn't. "Courtney? You know what this means? If he realizes that you know him and thinks that you told me, we're like, totally going to be killed!"

Courtney nodded. "Right, Sherlock. What was your first clue? Seriously, let's try to keep these jerks pleased with us and maybe the cops will somehow find us. If not, as long as we entertain them well and they don't catch on that I know Mason; we'll be alive for as long as possible."

Melissa nodded. "Okay, I can go for that. I sure don't have any better plan. But maybe something will turn up. All we can do is be alert and hope."

"Yeah, hope. Like, I'm doing that now, full speed ahead!"

Melissa laughed, and then both girls went white and shivered as the door to the stairs opened.

They heard the man that Courtney was sure was Howard Mason call out, "Okay, ladies, show time!"


	19. Chapter 19

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 19

Hotchner, Morgan, Ford, and a deputy assigned to drive the unmarked sheriff's car prepared to cruise past Michael Bamka's house with both movie and still cameras at the ready.

"We can't pause long," Hotchner pointed out. "If anyone is home and sees an unusual car, they'll spot us. And if we show interest in his house, the neighbors may warn him, thinking that we were possible burglars scouting the house. With any luck, he's at his store now."

He turned to Rossi and Jareau. "Dave, I need a respectable married couple to go shop that hardware store and see if you can lay eyes on Bamka. Make up some story to meet him. I suspect that if you browse the store and JJ walks around looking bored, like a typical wife would, Bamka may rush over and talk to her. Try to draw him out; get a feel for him."

"As long as I don't get a feel _from_ him!" joked the blonde agent, to general laughter." But, seriously, what if some clerk asks to help me instead of Bamka? That seems more likely, really."

Rossi answered. "Just brush him off and wait until you eyeball Bamka. We have his description, and his manner will probably make it clear that he's in charge. Give him a shy, admiring look and he'll come over. If I've profiled him right, that'll happen. Of course, you're rather good looking, so I could profile that about most men. But kidding aside, his personality will be geared toward wanting to throw his weight around and impress women."

"That should work," agreed Hotchner. "But get together a cover story. If he starts talking, you need to be able to tell him how long you've been married, where you're from, that sort of thing. Why you're in town… Be sure your stories jive. If he's at all suspicious, you can't afford to be caught in a lie. Of course, your whole story will be a lie, but make it consistent. You know the routine. Remember, lives may be riding on how well you pull off this performance."

Jareau nodded, blushing a little and fingering her wedding rings, glad that she was wearing them. She looked to her "husband" and said, "We can do this, Dave. I'm totally on it."

He smirked. "Yes, dear, if you say so."

Hotchner and Ford smiled. "I see that you two will manage, "chuckled the sheriff. "But try to park your SUV out of sight of the door. He may sense a G-ride if he's hinky. Many crooks are, and I've met him a few times. He's no dumbass. In fact; I'd say that he's probably quite shrewd."

"What's a G-ride?" asked a secretary who'd brought in some papers for the sheriff to sign.

"Means a government-issued vehicle," replied Rossi. "We can maybe park where he can't see our plates. If he sees those US Government license plates, it'll cook our goose. Hotch, should we rent a car? He may come out of the store as we leave to see what we're driving."

Hotchner thought quickly. "Yes, unless you're so pressed for time that your cover story includes you being an employee of some other US agency. Nothing on the vehicle specifically says that it's a Bureau car. But you'd have to explain why you have it instead of a rental car if you're visiting in town, maybe thinking of moving here. On balance, I think you'd better let someone drive you by whichever rental agency the sheriff thinks is best and rent something. We can't afford to tip our hand. Use your own credit card, I guess, and the Bureau will reimburse you for the rental. If I loan you my FBI credit card, it has the wrong name on it for your ID and we don't know if the rental agent may talk about renting a car to FBI agents. It's a small town, and the wrong person may hear that. In fact, rent that car for several days. Tell them that you may need it for a week. We can probably use it otherwise when we need an unmarked car that doesn't say 'cop' about it to a savvy observer. Better get something with four-wheel drive in case we need it to go out into the forest."

"We'll rent something good, and comfy," promised Jareau. "Right, Honey ?" She winked at Rossi and took his arm.

Ford laughed. "You have quite a team, Aaron. I see why you solve cases if you always work as well as you do now.

"Look, Alicia," he addressed the secretary. "Why don't you use your own car to run Mr. and Mrs. Rossi here by the rental agency and see that they get a car okay. Once they have it, just go on home unless you have something urgent to finish here. The afternoon is getting on and it'll be close to quitting time before they have that car rented and rolling. By the way, that hardware store should be open until nine tonight. "

"We need to leave soon to have enough light to get good photos," reminded Hotchner. "Grant, what's most urgent after we case that house?"

The sheriff smiled. "Getting some good barbeque. I'll treat. We'll do that on the way back here to get the pictures enhanced and sent to your team's tablets. Unless Dave and JJ learn something vital at that store, that should do it for tonight. Tomorrow, Judge Frost should be back from vacation and I'll see if he thinks the fact that one of those sexy bras that Donna sold is an exact match to the one the Cassidy girl was wearing in the phone video is enough for a warrant, in view of the shackles sold, etc. The lingerie is all pretty unique for Elk Pass sales, according to Donna at the shop. Judge Frost's more conservative than the other judge and he may just grant us a warrant. Then, we'll have to decide whether to risk a raid that might tip off the kidnappers if we don't find those girls. That's going to be a tough judgment call."

And on that note, they left on their respective missions.


	20. Chapter 20

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 20

The car with the investigators seeking information about the hardware store owner's home eased down the street and Ford leaned out a little with a motion picture camera. He filmed with it, and then they went down the street, turned, and cruised back. Hotchner and a deputy who usually took evidence photos and processed them both used Nikon digital SLR cameras with telephoto lenses to get added still pictures as the car paused briefly. Then, they went down the block and came back up the alley.

"If he has a fence, we won't see a damned thing," complained Ford.

But they were lucky: the fence wasn't wood, just normal wire links like most homes had on this street and indeed, throughout most of the USA. There was a garage, but it seemed to be of normal size and unlikely to hold more than a couple of cars or SUV's. They'd already taken pictures of a dark blue Jeep Cherokee in the driveway, including the license plate.

"That's it for here, folks," said the sheriff. "Let's go get some good barbeque and hope that the Rossi's see him in the store and get a sense of who and what he is."

XXXXXXXX

David Rossi parked the rented green Toyota 4-Runner by the hardware store and went around and helped Jareau out and locked the door.

"Dave, thanks, but should you be opening doors for me? How long have we been married? Do many men really do that for their wives? "

Rossi paused to think, and he nodded. "Yes, it'd be in character for me. I'm sort of courtly and like to lavish attention on women. Doesn't your husband do this for you?"

Jareau snorted and took her "husband's" hand. "No. Like, I wish! Mr. William LaMontagne's really not very gallant about such things. Said that if women are supposed to be so liberated today, I can get my own doors and pull out my own chair in restaurants. It's sort of nice to be treated like a lady, for a change. Dave, do you think we can really pull this off? Like we're really married, for four years? What if they ask a lot of personal questions?"

Rossi smiled. "Just tell them that we don't want to talk to strangers about our personal lives. They really have no business asking much beyond what we're shopping for. And I'll be very surprised if Bamka wants to talk about you as much as he'll talk about himself. He seems to be that sort of man."

Jareau grimaced. "Yeah, I've dated some men like that. Everything is about them, until they want to get my clothes off. The sort who look at my boobs more than my face!"

Rossi smiled. "I promise to look at all of you and even to listen to you…most of the time. Ready, Dear?" And he helped Jareau up onto the sidewalk and opened the store door for her.

Inside, they found a large, well stocked and arranged store, with practically anything that one would hope for a hardware store to have. There were even a couple of lawn mowers, the sort ridden by the person cutting the grass.

A clerk approached them, but he was young and didn't fit the description of the owner. "Help you folks?" he asked. He had long brown hair, down to the base of his neck, reminding Jareau a little of Dr. Spencer Reid. But this fellow's hair was straighter.

"Yeah," said Rossi. "We're thinking of moving here and rented a SUV to get around and I was thinking of driving out of town some and want to get an axe in case we get stuck, and maybe have to spend a night in the woods or have to chop a fallen tree out of the road, that sort of thing. We need some canteens and Thermos bottles, too, if you have those. Maybe those all-steel Stanley vacuum bottles? I tend to break glass bottles."

The clerk smiled. "We carry both Stanley and Nissan steel bottles, in several sizes. And we have axes and hatchets by Gerber, Fiskars, Estwing, Buck, Snow & Neely, and if you really want to spend some money, we have some by a couple of Swedish makers. They have real hand-forged heads and hold an edge really well. Got both Wetterling and Gransfors Bruks brands. Where do you want to start: with axes or vacuum bottles?"

"I'm feeling a little like Paul Bunyan today," joked the tall FBI agent. "Let's start with the axes."

"Who's Paul Bunyan?" the clerk wanted to know." Does he live here in Elk Pass?"

Rossi managed not to roll his eyes. So many people today were ignorant of America's traditions and legends. This twerp probably knew about sports figures, Online games, or about the Kardassians, but not about Bunyan. Still, if he explained about the legendary axe man and logger, they'd begin to bond to a degree and he could get the man to talking while Jareau wandered off and made herself available in case Bamka wanted to approach her.

They walked over to the back of the store, where axes and hatchets were displayed along one side wall. There was a counter, with the items stored behind it, with hatchets and smaller axes in a glass counter display. The clerk explained that if they left these out for the public to handle, they got scratched up and wooden handles would be dented and some items would inevitably be stolen. "Just browse a little and I'll hand you whatever you want to look at," he offered.

"Don't leave," said Rossi. "I have some questions, and I definitely want to handle some merchandise. First, what's the difference between the Gerber and Fiskars brands? Both are made in Finland and both have those hollow fiberglass handles."

"Yeah," said the kid, who suddenly seemed more in his element. Rossi realized that he might be more knowledgeable than he'd thought. He was afraid at first that the lad might barely be able to ring the cash register and wouldn't know much about the merchandise. But this initial impression, compounded by his ignorance of Paul Bunyan, was in error.

"First," he explained, "Fiskars bought Gerber in Portland maybe 20 years ago and the axes are made in the same factory in Finland, where Fiskars is located. But hardware and big general merchandise stores like Home Depot tend to sell the Fiskars brand, while the ones marked Gerber go to sporting goods stores, to sell to campers, hunters, and other sportsmen. Gerber usually costs more, because that's their target market. Fiskars are often sold more to homeowners and gardeners and whatnot, who want an axe to chop firewood or to cut down trees that they don't want or which are growing branches that need trimming. Whatever. So the main difference is just in the brand markings and maybe in some handle colors. We carry both, and sell a lot of them. They're good axes and those fiberglass handles are a lot stronger than they look. And see how the heads are imbedded in the handles, where the handle surrounds the middle of the axe head? You don't have to worry about the head flying off if a wooden handle shrinks a little."

"You men have fun," said JJ. "I'm going to stroll around and shop a little."

Rossi nodded and saw from the corner of his eye that the young clerk was watching Jareau as she left. He avoided being caught as Rossi turned and the men resumed talking about axes and hatchets. The clerk showed how Buck hatchets also had such handles.

Jareau wandered a bit, and soon felt that she was being observed. She looked around and saw two men in different parts of the store avert their eyes, hoping not to be seen watching her. Another stared and smiled a little. But all were customers.

And then she heard a voice behind her say, "Hello, ma'am. Can I help you? I'd be happy to help you find whatever you're looking for. And I bet we have it, too. This is the best stocked hardware store in the county. I own it, and I'm proud of our selection. My name's Mike Bamka."

She turned and looked into the face of the man who may have kidnapped two young women and was probably sexually abusing and humiliating them.


	21. Chapter 21

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 21

Jareau looked at her new acquaintance, trying to memorize every detail of his appearance without appearing to be studying him. He must not be alerted to her suspicions…

Her suspect was about five feet eleven inches, with dark hair going gray at the temples. She estimated his age as being in the early to mid 40's, and he was trim and looked in good condition, a man who hiked or worked out in a gym, she thought. His eyes were brown, and they were also disturbing. If the eyes are truly the windows to the soul, this soul was troubling. She sensed a feeling of dominance and confidence, aggression likely if Bamka was pressed too hard or if his vanity was aroused. The eyes were large, dark, and suspicious. As a female, she also sensed that he was presumptuous in his dealings with women. She shivered inwardly, hoping that the emotion didn't show.

"Hello," she said politely, as if glad to have his assistance. "You do have a really nice store, although hardware stores aren't places where I usually spend a lot of time admiring the layout or décor." She smiled to take any possible sting out of the words. Just a typical woman, with a female attitude about hardware stores…

She turned and he had to follow to continue looking at her face. But Jareau wanted to be able to look behind the merchant and see her partner, Rossi, as he bargained with the salesman in the axe department. She caught his eye and Rossi gazed coolly at Bamka, no doubt memorizing his dress and appearance before he hefted two hatchets as if deciding which he preferred.

Jareau and the owner talked for awhile, she telling him that her husband and she were thinking of moving to Elk Pass and if they did, would undoubtedly become customers of the store.

"For now, Dave just wants to buy an axe in case we get lost in the woods and we want some vacuum bottles, like Thermos or similar things."

"Well, pretty lady, let's stroll over to the vacuum bottles and we'll take care of that while your husband shops. Does he use axes a lot, camp much? What business is he in?" Bamka tried to sound casual and just curious about a new customer.

Oh," lied Jareau, "He's an architect. We're from Seattle, but he's retiring next year, and we want somewhere quieter, without the hassles and racial strife of big cities. And Dave likes to fish and we heard this was a good place to settle. Most of what we'd need is probably here, and none of what we're trying to leave behind. Tell me about Elk Pass. I guess that you've lived here for years?"

And so it went until Rossi came over and showed Jareau a Gransfors Bruks small forest axe that he'd bought. He explained that he'd also bought a couple of Fiskars camp axes, basically just long-handled hatchets. He wanted an axe for both of their cars and one for their home.

"The salesman got another, older, guy to sharpen them. I figured that's worth three bucks a head. The Gransfors came plenty sharp. Ought to, for the price."

He joined his "wife" and the salesman in small talk, trying not to reveal too much about them or say anything that he'd have to recall later to keep his story straight if they met Bamka out of his store.

Finally, the axes were ready and with a couple of one-quart Stanley and smaller Nissan vacuum bottles added to their purchases, they bade Bamka farewell, Rossi praising his store and the obviously wide selection and courteous service. Bamka rang the sale personally, giving the agents a free canvas shopping bag with the name of the store on it. He made a point of telling them that the bag would normally cost $1.50, looking Jareau over appreciatively as he mentioned this generosity.

They were no more than out the door than Jareau breathed a sigh of relief. "That man gave me the creeps. How did you feel about him? I think there's a good chance that he's one of the kidnappers. Even if he's not, he must favor pretty rough sex, demeaning to the women he gets. I felt naked under his gaze. Could you tell that I was feeling creeped out. Like, especially when we passed that display of chains? I hope he sells chain mainly to people wanting to secure their bicycles!"

Rossi said that she had done well, seeming like a bored wife, but still happy to be on vacation and learning new things about Elk Pass and attentive to the sales talk that Bamka had trotted out to sell the vacuum bottles.

"I did like the way you stood beside me and took my hand," he admitted. "You could have just been wanting comfort because he made you uneasy, but it came across mainly as affection. I think we make a good couple. Right, dear?"

"I married you mainly for your money and the fact that you can cook better than I can," she teased back. "What next? We need to tell Hotch and Sheriff Ford what we discovered, and see if they ever got the phone records back about where all Bamka has been for the past week or two. I hope Ford got the subpoena for that okay. Hey, be careful with those axes. What are you going to do with them when this case is over? Give them to friends for Christmas, so they can chop firewood for their fine homes where you live, Mr. Rich Guy?"

Rossi chuckled. "Nope, JJ, I'm keeping them and leaving one at home and one in each of my cars. You never know when one may be needed, and I do go fishing and camping and traveling sometimes. Can't wait to try that expensive Swedish one on firewood, too, although it's a little light for heavy routine chopping. I have a bigger axe at home for that. But it'll cut firewood for camp and do other useful things that I'll describe, if you want. Remind me later to stop in a grocery store and get some dish detergent to clean the new vacuum bottles. I do want to use them around town and if we go to the woods. I want to get some food and soft drinks for the trunk, too. I don't fancy eating those GI field rations that the Seattle office gave us if I can buy better. I wonder how Seaver and the others are faring with that new body out where the couple who found the remains think they saw Bigfoot tracks. "

"That'll be a fascinating turn of events, whatever killed that poor guy," conceded Jareau. "Hey, Dave? Can we go by a burger place or an ice cream store on the way back to the office? I could do with a snack. Which is funny, really, because that guy Bamka made my stomach uneasy."

"Sure," said the older agent. I just hope they got those phone records. I feel like I'm standing in one place and walking in circles as far as getting anywhere with this case. We need a break."

But the phone records didn't provide much of a break, although Ford now had partial results. He met the agents in the conference room and they sorted out where the calls had come from. They were researching who Bamka had called on his cell phone, his home phone, and that in his office at the store.

Deputy Hso was studying the map on the wall. "Sheriff?" he queried. "I think I've computed where the recordings on those girls' phones may have been made. What do you know about the old Miller farm? It's remote enough to hold captives there, and it has several buildings. We should probably drop by and see what's there, like maybe two terrified blondes?"


	22. Chapter 22

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 22

"I know one thing we can do, especially now that we realize that this man Bamka may be involved." Hotchner took out his cell phone and dialed their Quantico office.

When Garcia answered, Hotchner told her what he wanted: "Garcia, we need the complete phone records of this man Bamka, all of his phones: cell, home phone, and the one in his store, the one in his office there. And get the phone company to tell you where he was on every day of the past two weeks, especially if he may have been at the old Miller farm that we've been discussing here. We want to know where he went if he left Elm Fork. Get us the latitude and longitude of the places if the phone company can't name a specific location, like a store or something.

"Even if he turned off his cell, we can track him through it. He has to actually remove the batteries to avoid being tracked. I doubt that he did that. Most people think we can't track them without the phone being on. And I want to know if he called or got calls from any one person who might be a more frequent caller than most. I'm hoping that we can ID anyone who may be close enough to Bamka to participate in a kidnapping. If we're lucky, we can even overhear them planning something. This is the only real lead we have now, so get on it. I'll authorize overtime pay for a few hours tonight. Those missing girls' lives are at risk! Understand?"

"Got it, Hotch," said the computer whiz. "Uh, can I order in some food and get the Bureau to pay for it, if I'm going to be here all night?"

"Yes, that's fine. Just don't have some famous restaurant cater filet mignon and trimmings or order a bunch of expensive truffles. And don't stay all night unless you hit a hot trail. Get what you can, and then go home and sleep. But if you find anything good, call me at whatever hour it is. And if you isolate a particular person of interest, see if he's ordered any lingerie or restraints and see if he has a criminal record."

"Got it, Fearless Leader. I'm smoking; I'm so on fire with looking for leads. Tell Derek hello. I'm sorry that we embarrassed you and the Bureau. I'll be really subtle about this stuff. Garcia, out!"

Ford smiled as Hotchner ended the call. "Aaron, that was a nice piece of work. I doubt that we can dig deep enough to get actual recorded phone conversations, but just knowing who he sees and talks to is a good first step. And I've requested a warrant to tap all of his phones. However, we already established that the girls' phones had the batteries removed until they were forced to dance onscreen. Otherwise, we'd have tracked them by phone from the first. These guys clearly realize that they need to remove batteries!"

Hotchner smacked his forehead. "Oh, damn, Grant! I forgot. But this may pay off if they forgot to take out their own batteries. It's worth a try: they may not think we'd ever check their own phones, just those from the kidnapped girls. So, Garcia may yet find what we want."

Ford nodded. "Makes sense. Many criminals have enormous egos and a lack of ability to realize that they aren't invulnerable. "

"How's our expedition to that murder site going?" asked Morgan. "Shouldn't those guys call here soon, to at least say that they got there?"

Ford looked at his watch. "They haven't had time to get there. We'll give them another hour and radio the crews if we don't hear from them by then."

"So, that's all we have now," summed up Hotchner. "Maybe the leads that Rossi and JJ got will offer something."

"I sure hope so, "declared Ford. "The clock is ticking, and the sooner we learn who to arrest, the better. I want those girls back unharmed. I'm pretty sure that they've been raped. The least we can do is to keep anything worse from happening to them ."


	23. Chapter 23

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 23

As the group in the sheriff's office awaited the return of Rossi and Jareau and the phone company records pertaining to who all Bamka had called, the expedition sent to investigate the death in the woods was arriving at their destination.

Blacklaws pulled over as he saw sheriff's cars and a US Fish and Wildlife SUV parked by a gray rental Ford near a trail that led into the woods. Waters, following Blacklaws in his FBI vehicle, stopped behind the tall deputy and they got out and met Chris van Reenan and the German couple who had discovered the body, Hans and Ilse von Rauenthal. He was a neurosurgeon and she was a child psychologist, from Munich.

After introductions, van Reenan said, "We've been up the trail and seen the corpse. Peter, you'll need to see it and the CSI people should arrive any minute. But I can tell you with virtual certainty that we're looking at a bear kill. But the plot thickens: I can also tell you in all candor that some of the footprints left there are absolutely not those of the bear, which I think is a big black weighing maybe 375-400 pounds. Those other tracks are, so help me, those of an unknown primate at least twice or more the weight of a large human."

Seaver was aghast. Was this a prank? "Dr. van Reenan…do you mean to say that you saw a Bigfoot?"

"Well, no, I haven't yet seen one, just the fresh tracks. But, yes, I'd stake my scientific credentials on this being a real Bigfoot that left those tracks, and not a hoax. If I wasn't expecting a real bear and a real Bigfoot to be here, I wouldn't have bothered to get this out of my car." And the biologist gestured to the powerful rifle slung over one shoulder.

Blacklaws and Waters looked at one another and excused themselves to get their rifles.

The Germans asked to come with the others to view the body, pointing out that they were very worried about being unarmed, apart from their knives and hiking staffs. Blacklaws consented to this, and thanked them for staying there until officers had arrived.

They left two deputies with the cars, but von Rauenthal pointed out that he was, after all, a physician, and might be able to answer medical questions about the death. This made sense, although an official decision would have to come from the county medical examiner. But von Rauenthal was there and the ME wasn't, yet. And the German was also a licensed hunter in his nation, which meant that he knew a good deal about animals, including tracks, that being required for a licensed hunter in that land.

"Remember that the bear and/or the Bigfoot may still be nearby," cautioned Chris van Reenan. "Bears often lay up near their kills, and this one may be in bad temper if he sees us. Talk softly, and walk that way. Peter, will you join me at the head of our little column? And Agent Waters and Deputy Franklin can bring up the rear. We all have rifles. If everyone else fills in at the middle, we'll have protection where we most need it, at the front and rear of the group. Ready? Let's trek, eh?"

And the group moved off down the trail, wondering what might be watching from the shadows of the forest as they hiked the mile to the death scene.

_This was a short scene, but I'll be back soon, and the pace will increase._


	24. Chapter 24

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 24

As they entered the forest, Seaver was impressed by the tall trees, mainly evergreens, and the rich smell of the earth after a shower the previous night. She looked uneasily at the trunks and the other vegetation, wondering who or what might be watching her at this very moment. She was glad to be protected by the men with rifles and their knowledge.

Several hundred yards down the trail, Blacklaws and van Reenan paused and discussed something they'd seen in the moist dirt. Dr. von Rauenthal and his wife wandered over and looked at the tracks the men were observing. "Ach, a lynx,_ ja?"_

Frau van Rauenthal agreed with her husband's assessment, and then they looked expectantly at the other men.

"Yes," agreed the big blond ex-Afrikaaner biologist. "A good guess. Specifically, _Lynx_ _rufus_, what we call a bobcat. It's usually less heavily furred than the Canadian lynx and there are other minor differences, with the bobcat usually being lighter weight and living in more southern latitudes. But the bobcat is indeed a form of lynx. Here, it replaces the Caracal lynx or _rooikat_ of my former country. You have a good eye, Doctor. I'll ask your assessment of those other tracks when we get to the death scene."

The German nodded. "By the by, gentlemen, you may as well address me or Ilse by our first names. 'Doctor von Rauenthal' can apply to either of us. She is, after all, a psychiatrist, with a doctorate of her own. And she holds a German hunting license and can interpret animal tracks very nearly as well as I can. You are fortunate to have both of us to corroborate your own opinion. I wouldn't like to think what conventional scientists will say if you declare those tracks to be a Bigfoot or Sasquatch. But I am happy to back up your opinion. That is exactly what we saw: tracks of just such a beast."

They agreed that the bobcat tracks had been left since their earlier visit to the scene and were watchful for any other animals that might be in the area.

"Are bobcats dangerous?" asked Seaver.

Blacklaws shook his head. "Not usually. If you corner one in a garage or in a barn, it might well attack, and they're tough customers. One will see off a larger coyote more often than not, and that's saying something. I say, it's a damned shame that JJ is missing this adventure. It may be her best chance to see a bear on this trip."

Several of their number laughed and had to explain to the others about Jareau's horror of bears.

"If you ask me, she's right to worry about bears," said Deputy Jeff Franklin. "After all, what are we going to see but what a bear did when it decided to?"

And on that somber note, they pressed on.

About halfway to the kill, they paused to look at another set of tracks. Seaver was relieved to learn that these were fox tracks. Then she was less relieved when she learned that the spacing of the tracks showed that the animal had been running.

"I think something scared it," opined Waters. "Of course, it could have been running to see a Taylor Swift concert in town. You guys know if there's a show like that there tonight?"

This was met by a chorus of groans, but some found the idea so off the wall that they laughed, anyway. And then had to explain the joke to the von Rauenthals, who were wondering if he had spoken literally and why everyone was reacting as if to a joke? Assured that it was a joke, if a poor one, they laughed harder than their American hosts.

And so, their courage bolstered by laughter, they pressed on, dreading what they expected to find. Blacklaws quietly expressed to van Reenan his hope that nothing had happened to the two deputies left to protect the crime scene.

"They got their patrol rifles from their cars," the scientist explained. "But you know that those 5.56mm arms shoot a load suitable for coyotes or bobcats, not for bear or for deer, although some states allow them for deer. Still, that's a marginal cartridge in warfare if the range is much extended, and our troops in Iraq and in Afghanistan have complained. I'd not like to have to shoot an angry bear, let alone a Sasquatch with one." And he looked genuinely worried.

"We'd probably have heard shots if they had to defend themselves," Blacklaws reflected.

And then they were there. Even before they saw the scene around a bend in the trail, they smelled the dead man. And then they saw the yellow Crime Scene tape cordoning off the area around the body and more tape where the vital tracks were located, in three places.

Both deputies were standing upwind of the gentle breeze, far enough back from the body to inhale a minimum of the putrid odor. One look at the remains and everyone saw what a bear was capable of doing. And this man was not only dead, he was partially consumed.

The cause of death, despite claw and teeth marks, was probably a blow to the head that had ripped it half off, breaking the man's neck in the process. A bite had severed the spine and finished removing the head. It sat to one side of the corpse, eyes staring blankly ahead, the gaze frozen in death and in time. The facial features were still discernible and Blacklaws rolled the head to face him with a stick that he found on the ground.

"Hell, that's Bob Jackson!" he exclaimed. "His dad runs a feed store in town."

A look around and some helpful comment from the two deputies who had been awaiting them showed why Jackson had been there. His tackle box and a fishing rod case were nearby, the aluminum rod case dented by a violent blow. He was shod for terrain like this in low Vasque trail boots and his garb was that of a local angler.

His Hamilton watch was still on one bloody wrist, and his wallet was in his left rear pocket. It contained several credit cards, a driver's license that confirmed his identify and almost $200 in cash. Robbery did not seem a motive for his death. There was no handgun or other weapon beyond a Buck Model 105 sheath knife, still on his belt. A small pack contained a blanket and a few camp items and medicines in case he had to spend the night. The pack had been ripped open and cans of food were torn open and consumed. There were big teeth marks in the cans. One sardine can was crushed.

The Medical Examiner arrived with the CSI team and they discussed the situation. It was apparent that the damage was done by a bear, and that no human involvement seemed likely.

Blacklaws and the CSI team photographed the body and the tracks. The tracks by the body and the claw marks on it were obviously those of a black bear weighing some 400 pounds or a little less, as van Reenan had suggested. Indeed, he was probably the man most qualified to assess such matters, being a professional wildlife biologist who often studied bears.

"Okay," said the ME at last as they looked at other tracks a few feet from the deceased, "Now we come to the elephant in the room: what we all see and don't want to have to discuss. We have to say what left these tracks. Dr. van Reenan, will you say officially what you think left these prints?"

And they stared down at huge footprints that were basically human but were clearly different in shape and in load bearing capacity. And they all sensed that these were not fakes. The angles of some on a slope and the lines, whorls and ridges in the soles in the more moist ground proclaimed that these were not the work of a prankster or of a criminal trying to disguise a crime scene. These were something real and of a quality seldom seen, unquestionably the sign of a tall, powerful primate not known to official Science. They were conclusive evidence for proof of Bigfoot!

Chris van Reenan said so for the record, and Seaver shuddered. What the hell had she gotten herself into?! Would Hotch think she was joking or drunk when she called him with this information?


	25. Chapter 25

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 25

They finished what the crime scene team could do, and then the remains were loaded into a body bag and the dead man's belongings were bagged and labeled.

As this was accomplished, van Reenan and Blacklaws followed the tracks, confirming their impression that a bear had killed the man and was then scared off the kill by the arrival of the Bigfoot. But they were undecided whether the big primate had then fed on the corpse. Van Reenan pointed out that the bite marks were never of a nature that suggested a short-faced hominid, but of the long-nosed bear. But some of the flesh could have been eaten by either, the wounds being so wide and of such damage that the nature of the predator couldn't be determined with certainty. Moreover, a primate would pull food off the bones and transfer it to its mouth rather than eat with its mouth on the body. And one arm had been wrenched off, possibly by the Bigfoot. The tracks of this individual approached the body and walked around it, as if the creature was curious.

"It takes a lot to scare a bear off a kill," observed Blacklaws and those knowledgeable about such things nodded. This Bigfoot must be a formidable beast.

"Is the bear likely to come back?" wondered Seaver. She looked around nervously. "Or, the Bigfoot? How can we know what it'll do? Nobody really knows much about them, right?"

The men agreed and the ME looked at the darkening sky. "We need to get everything out and get back to town, Blacklaws. Are we all done here?"

The tall deputy nodded. "Yes, doc. Let's get underway."

And so they trekked back down the narrow path, avoiding a rattlesnake among some rocks just off the trail. Blacklaws pointed it out to Seaver and told her that it was a Northern Pacific Rattlesnake. "Scientifically, it's called _Crotalus viridis oreganus. _Remember that: you may as well learn something while we're out here. This has been a grim day, but Nature still has a lot to enjoy and a lot to be cautious about. That snake is the latter. Look out for them. You definitely don't want to learn first hand what snakebite is like. Apart from the suffering, a hospital stay for that, with antivenin, costs as much as $250,000.

Seaver was amazed to hear that, but the ME confirmed it. He was, after all, a doctor, and had some idea of medical costs.

Finally, they reached their cars and the body was placed in the ME's van and the convoy loaded everything else and began driving back to Elk Pass.

Blacklaws and Seaver were alone in the final car. It contained, among other evidence, casts of the footprints of both the bear and the strange beast that was surely a Bigfoot or Sasquatch. They wanted these to prove that they were not hallucinating or playing a prank. Dr. Christaan van Reenan was risking his reputation in the scientific community by declaring that this animal was real, so the evidence to support him was crucial.

As the convoy passed a steep cliff strewn with boulders and loose shale, Blacklaws and Seaver were about 200 yards behind the other vehicles. Then, a landslide began, with big rocks, loose soil, and shale cascading down the steep slope. Landslide!

The deputy braked hard and they stopped short of having any debris hit the SUV. But the road was blocked, and night was falling.

After her heart came down from her throat and she could speak, Seaver teased, "Peter, this is ridiculous! Other guys who want to be stuck in the wilderness with a girl just claim that they're out of gas. You didn't need to arrange this!"

Blacklaws laughed. "It does leave you in my depraved male clutches, doesn't it? We'd better call Hotchner and tell him that you'll be late for dinner. "And he called the sheriff, thankful that his I-phone worked in this remote location. Seaver called Hotchner.

They also talked with those in the preceding vehicles, which had retuned to the location of the landslide. They discussed what to do, and all agreed that there was no way to clear a path for Blacklaws's Toyota 4-Runner. The disaster relief people in town confirmed that no help could arrive until the next day. Then, they'd arrive before noon, with a bulldozer and a road scraper to clean off the debris and re-open the road.

"Do you want me to get a Bureau helicopter or one from the state police up there?" asked Hotchner. "We can't get the vehicle and its contents, but we can rescue you and Blacklaws. But it's going to be a near thing. It'll probably be dark by the time we can get a chopper there and those tall trees are not a good environment for a helicopter to operate in. They'll have to find a clearing somewhere on your side of the avalanche. Do you see any?"

Blacklaws replied that they were on a long, narrow road, hedged on both sides by tall timber. It would be impractical for helicopters to help. At best, they'd have to hover high above the scene and have pararescue men bring them up in a sling rigged to a long cable. In the dark, this would be hazardous, even with the lights from the copter.

The couple conferred and told their bosses to wait until tomorrow to recover them.

"Are you sure, Ashley?" Hotchner mentioned that the woods were known to contain bears, cougars, and other possible threats, plus this particular rogue bear and the Bigfoot.

She pointed out that they had ample food and water and had rifles. They could sleep in the Toyota to avoid the exposure of using a tent in an area where at least one bear was a man killer.

Hotchner's phone was set on Speaker and the other team members wished Seaver a safe night. Jareau told her to avoid bears, to everyone's amusement.

When they'd hung up, Rossi said that he hoped that Seaver would be safe. Jareau told him not to worry.

"Ashley is probably secretly glad that she got trapped in the forest with Peter. A lot of girls would envy her that opportunity."

Hotchner smiled. "I noticed an attraction between them. I'm not as blind as my agents sometimes think. I just hope that their unexpected date goes well. In the meantime, let's eat and go get some sleep. We need to initiate some action tomorrow. Those missing girls are probably suffering more every day that we fail to rescue them."

XXX

Back in the forest, Blacklaws backed up his vehicle until the road widened He turned the car so that the rear window was facing the rocky slope and the headlights could be used to illuminate anything that appeared in the road.

Turning to Ashley Seaver, he asked how she was doing. "Don't worry; we'll be okay," he assured her. "We'll stay in the SUV and stay alert. Go ahead and load your rifle, just in case. But I doubt that we'll be forced to shoot anything."

She shivered and reached for the Howa 7mm-08 rifle and began loading it. "I guess we're the test case for whether Bigfoot attacks cars, and maybe eats people. On the other hand, we have some time together at last. So, are you going to make a pass at me, or not? Nothing ventured, nothing gained." She closed the bolt on the rifle and set it aside.

Peter grinned. "In that case, I suppose that I'd better reach for you and see what's to be gained." And he pulled her over and ran his hand down her hair and along her arm as they began to kiss. She began breathing heavily and returned his embrace and soon, their minds were on one another, Bigfoot forgotten in the warmth of their passion.


	26. Chapter 26

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 26

_Remember: this is a Mature-Rated fic..._

Melissa Winters stood in a room maybe 12X12 feet square, without windows. She had been left there a few moments before by the men who said they owned her. Dressed only in panties and medium - sized gold loop earrings and with her hands cuffed behind her in bracelets with just one link between the cuffs, she stood before a full length mirror, looking at herself in it. Her hair was in a ponytail, tied in place with a white cord, maybe to match the lacy panties. She had been made to turn her palms toward the man who had chained her, rather than having the cuffs applied with her inner wrists facing. She felt more restrained than if the inner wrists had faced, but this was more comfortable than when they made her turn the backs of her wrists toward each other, to further limit her movements.

Melissa looked around and listened. Assured that the door was closed and that she couldn't hear the men, she rejoiced in being alone and with only minimal restraints. Usually, they also locked her cuffed wrists to her waist on a separate chain and her ankles were chained, too. It wasn't uncommon for her to be gagged or blindfolded, the men telling her that this was usually to accustom her to being so restrained. They had shown her and Courtney how they looked in a mirror that way, with the blindfolds off, although sometimes one girl remained blindfolded while the other was free to look at her and visualize how she looked blindfolded, herself. Both the gags and the blindfolds were padded leather, secured by quality buckles on well made straps. It was apparent that these were professionally made items, ideal for their purposes. And they sometimes used rubber ball gags, also professionally made, or a gag that had conventional straps, but just a wide metal or tough plastic ring that was placed in a girl's mouth behind her teeth before the strap was buckled. This held her mouth wide open, reducing the noise that she could make. She certainly could not form words. But the purpose of this ring gag was not so much to enforce silence, but to restrain and humiliate her. The ball gags were usually sized to fit a girl's mouth, but if the men wanted to punish or jeer her or Courtney, they'd use a ball large for her mouth, forcing it open even wider. Still, Melissa preferred that to a large ring gag. Those ring gags made her feel especially humiliated, trivialized, and dominated.

Sometimes, the men would chain both girls outside, to metal posts on the back lawn. Then, they were gagged to keep them from calling out if anyone was seen and to keep them from talking to one another. This was supposedly to keep them from plotting escape, but they thought the real purpose was more to embarrass them and to remind them of how helpless they were. The house was clearly in a remote area. Who would hear them if they cried out?

On one recent occasion, Melissa had seen Courtney raise her body and shift her shoulders back and her breasts out when she realized that the taller of their captors had come out to watch them. Courtney had blushed and glanced down and then briefly lifted her gaze to meet that of the captor. Melissa had been irritated and when they were back in their cells, gags off, she had angrily scolded Courtney for this show.

"If your hands had been free, you'd probably have played with your hair, too, right? You had a flush on you, Courtney. You were almost begging him to fuck you. Which I noticed that he did when they brought you in first! I had to wait out there naked in the hot sun another hour or more while that guy did you. I hope it was fun for you but it's not like you have to work to seduce these guys. They do both of us a time or two a day, anyway. Are you falling for him? Did you really have to lift up and shove your boobs out like that? That just gives them more to look at, more to get turned on about! Or, did that possibility just escape your mind? What are you, blonde, or something?"

Courtney had laughed. "Yeah, Melissa, blonde, just like you. Look, I'm sorry if I upset you, but it was kind of a turn-on in a kinky way, I guess. I was sort of flattered when I saw him watching me, especially. I think he wants me, in particular. And he's had me up there to screw more than he has you lately. Maybe I can get him to care about me and I can use that to help protect you, too. "

"So this gives you an excuse to act like a whore in heat when he stares at you? Good gosh, Courtney! What kind of girl are you? No wonder you work in a strip club!" Melissa was clearly upset.

Courtney was hardly chastised, though. "Look, roomie: if he likes me, it helps you, too, and it's not like either of us is a sheltered virgin here. But I'll have you know that they were going to bring you upstairs last night and put you in that wooden pillory, the lower one that bends you over really deep while they fondle you for awhile before they fuck you. I talked them into doing me an extra time each instead. And they both wanted blow jobs before they did me again. That saved you last night. But if I was you, I'd sort of expect them to lock you in the lower pillory and do you from behind. Maybe I distracted them enough that they won't think of it again soon. I tried. I wanted to protect you, honey. I like you, and we need to look out for one another when we can. By the way, they were teasing me, saying that they ought to put us both in the same cage and have us make out while they watch. They asked if I'd ever been with another girl. I haven't. Have you? What could we do if they insist on that? It turns me off, mainly. But I have sometimes wondered what it'd be like to have another chick play with me. But I'm always going to be mainly a man's girl. That's the way I am. But if they make us do it, can you stand that? I think they're considering it really seriously. They made me watch a porn flick where two girls did that. It was kind of gross, but exciting, too. You wouldn't believe what they did to each other. I can see why these guys liked it. " She shuddered and blushed.

Melissa told her that she had "sort of" fooled around with another cheerleader one afternoon while they tried some moves on each other, pretending that it was what they each wanted the football players to do to them. "But if we hadn't gotten into her parents' gin, I don't think we'd have done it. I had a couple of drinks. Later, I figured out that Kelly was trying to get me drunk and make out. She's totally into guys, but she likes muff, too, I know now. Did she ever proposition you? Damn, she was good. I'm sure that I wasn't the first girl she did that to. Karen Reynolds told me to watch out for her when we talked about it. I didn't tell anyone but her, but she told me that Kelly had tried to play with her, too, and a couple of other girls told her later that Kelly does that. "

Courtney looked startled." I thought that I was the only girl that she went after. I told her no, but she felt me up a little a few times before I told her to keep her hands to herself or on guys. She told me that I didn't know what I was missing. But men are where I'm at."

Melissa thought. "Look, those girls in the movie they made you watch? Did they use dildos or strap-on's on each other? That sort of scares me. If someone is going inside me, I want it to be a man. Or, my own danged vibrator."

Courtney nodded, "Yeah, one chick had this dildo and she knew how to use it judging from the other girl's reaction. But they were actresses. At least some of that passion was probably faked, right?"

And they had debated what this might mean and if they could ever be intimate with one another, if forced.

Melissa thought of that now, and again wondered what she'd do if ordered to pleasure Courtney or let Courtney do that to her. She shivered. She hoped that she wouldn't have to watch that movie, and then wondered just what the actresses had done to each other, although Courtney had been pretty explicit in her descriptions.

After some five minutes, Melissa wandered over to stand before the long three-paneled mirror. It showed her from three angles at once. She looked herself over, and decided that she liked what she saw. She repeated Courtney's gesture of easing her shoulders back and her boobs out and turned to see the effect from several angles. She subtly altered her stance and turned to check out her butt. She saw the handcuffs and studied the visual effect of her bondage. She shivered and decided that there was something to the theory that bound or chained women had an erotic appeal. She'd already noticed that when seeing Courtney, especially when the men had come to take Courtney upstairs. And she had to admit, she had been aroused a little sometimes when they had bound or braceleted her. She hoped that Courtney didn't know, but suspected that their shorter captor had noticed her blushing and breathing a little harder once as he handcuffed her. Melissa had even leaned back a little into him right after he'd locked her wrists in those cuffs and he'd seemed to smirk and handled her provocatively. She had cast her eyes down in shame, but almost quivered now sometimes as she was restrained. And she hoped that Courtney hadn't heard or seen her as she rubbed her pubes into her pillow sometimes when she thought that her cellmate was asleep. Melissa had begun to fantasize about what the men did to her, especially that shorter guy. He aroused her once she had gotten over the shock of being forced to do what he said and he was definitely taking care to satisfy her. That tall bastard just did her as he pleased and handled her roughly. As long as she was obedient and especially if she stood close to him and brushed against him, Short Man seemed more gentle with her and tried to arouse her and seemed pleased when she reacted to his caresses…and thrusts. She colored now, wondering which of them was going to use her before she was sent back downstairs. If it was the shorter man, would he consider taking her requests to do what especially excited her? After all, if he did her the ways that really turned her on, her reaction would probably gratify him, too. She wondered if he'd brag to his pal if she squirmed well and seemed to be putty in his hands. He was really good! And if Courtney Cassidy was going to court attention from the big thug, maybe Melissa should try to slut herself into the graces of his pal. It wouldn't be like she was falling in love. It was really more like she would be trying to survive and get some special consideration from their captors. But she reddened as she admitted to herself that the man had an effect on her, or at least, what he did to her did.

Why, if he could handle women like he could, did he have to kidnap girls to take by force? Maybe it was the power thing. As prisoners, she and Courtney had to do as ordered. The men didn't have to rely on getting them drunk or buying them expensive things to get what they wanted. Girls otherwise would have to be in real love to do what guys liked. And many in love still wouldn't debase themselves as these guys wanted in some positions and ways. What was scaring her now was that the men had made them read and discuss some sci-fi books where women were kept as slaves on another world and where many women were believed to be especially susceptible to wearing chains and being aroused by having to please male masters. They were considered to be natural slaves, women who didn't mind being owned by men and required to please them as demanded. Indeed, they were often stimulated by that!

And there were those books that sold so well, one of which had become a famous movie, about a girl excited by bondage. Might Melissa be one of these girls? She found it almost natural to kneel now when told to do so and she was aware that she adjusted her posture to look good that way and to kneel and move precisely as told. She was even trying to outdo Courtney when the other girl wasn't present at the same time. Did Courtney do the same? She was certainly sensual enough. Which of them pleased the men more? Would it be possible to become the favorite of one or both men? Might that enable her to survive if they decided to get rid of one girl? Melissa shuddered. She decided not to think overmuch about that. With luck, both would entertain their masters well enough to be kept alive and desired. The real test would come when the time arrived for the men to decide just how long they'd keep the girls and what to do when they tired of them. Would they really be ransomed or sold? The alternative was absolutely chilling. Melissa decided to become so alluring to at least the shorter man that he might keep her, even if Courtney met a grim fate.

She returned to the mirror and practiced some turns and postures. She ran her tongue around her lips and tried to look hot and desirable. And she swiveled her hips around and laughed as she saw the effect. Yeah, she was hot, and she might as well "work it" and see if she could intrigue the men. It might be her best bet. And she was getting turned on by some of what she was being made to do. Melissa turned and looked at herself in the mirrors again. She studied the way her hands looked in the cuffs and shivered. She could see why she probably appealed to men that way. It even excited her to see the way she looked. She tried briefly to slip a wrist free, but both bracelets were too snug. She had often tried to escape her bonds, especially when tied rather than cuffed. She and Courtney had never managed to even think they could slip their bonds. Now, that aroused her and she looked again at her image in the mirror. And she tried a slow strut a few times, trying to seem sultry and seductive. After all, she wanted to become an actress. This might prove to be the greatest role that she'd ever have. And she did like the way she looked in just panties and handcuffs…Maybe she'd look even better if she wore black ones. Or, red. But these lacy white ones did fit her just right and felt good on her, and there was something about white panties that seemed just right for the image that she was intended to provide tonight. White was a good color on blondes. She wondered what she would be made to do after that door opened. What was taking those guys so long, anyway?

XXX

On the other side of the closed door, both captors sat at a desk and watched a color TV monitor, seeing everything that Melissa did.

"I told you so," said the shorter man. "She likes what she sees in that mirror. I think she's coming around. But I think the other one likes you better. You want to bring her up tonight and do her for awhile?"

The other man nodded. "Yeah, after you finish with this one. Then, it's my turn with her. But tomorrow, I want to bring Courtney up and put her in that room and watch her. I bet she'll prove to be very interesting. "

His pal agreed. "But first, lock her wrists in those Irish 8 cuffs, with the bracelets upright, to hold her hands above her waist behind her. I think she looks best that way, and I think I saw her quiver a little when I was laying out cuffs yesterday and deciding which to put on her. Her eyes kept coming back to that pair."

The other villain agreed. "Yeah, they're both really hot that way. And besides, that leaves her hands above her butt. I can feel that up without having to make her move her hands or lifting them. "

The other man laughed, "Why, goodness gracious, buddy! Are you the sort of man who gets excited from fondling the naked bottom of a handcuffed chick?"

"Could be," his partner replied. "Why don't you look and see? Won't be long before you have your answer."

And both laughed. It was an ominous sound, for a laugh…

They went to the door of Melissa's room, but the tall man picked up a fairly rigid leather strap on the way. He had decided to have her prance in place and if her knees didn't come up high enough and if she didn't bounce that pony tail right, she'd get three whacks on the bottom from the strap each time that happened. Then, he'd put her in the taller pillory for an hour and they'd each feel her up as they passed while going about other business. He'd use that strap on her more then, too.

He looked forward to that before they took her out of the stocks and had her kneel and listen to what was expected of her that night. He wanted to see her face as he explained that. But he'd need to keep an eye on Melissa and his partner. She seemed especially submissive and eager when he handled her. And that aroused jealousy in him, the senior man. What did his pal do that made him any more appealing to their captives than he was? He was the taller man and he liked thinking of himself that way in their association. He decided to put upright Irish 8 cuffs on Melissa before she pranced for him. That would keep her from trying to shield her butt with her hands cuffed normally, lower down. Yes, that would be fun and he wanted to see his partner's reaction if he treated Melissa roughly. If the other man came to the girl's defense, he might have a budding problem on his hands.


	27. Chapter 27

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 27

In the woods beyond where the landslide had blocked the road, it was now dark. Ashley Seaver was breathing heavily as Peter Blacklaws fondled her productively after removing her blouse and bra. He was fondling and nuzzling very effectively, and Ashley moaned as he stroked her hair and ears… and nipples.

"These jeans are in the way," he declared. "Want help in getting them off? By the way, I assume that you are on The Pill, or something? I do have rubbers, but added protection is not a bad thing to have. Are you enjoying this as much as I am?"

She nodded. "If you're enjoying it as much as it seems you are," she replied, stroking the hard erection through his trousers. "It appears that we're both enjoying it a lot. But I don't generally do one-night stands. We're both going to get a grilling from our friends tomorrow. I'm not sure what to tell them. The hell of it is, I think they're going to assume the worst."

Peter smiled. "Most girls of my dating acquaintance don't describe me as 'the worst'. And this isn't necessarily a one-night stand. I was rather hoping that you might transfer to the Seattle field office and we might continue to see one another. And not just for sex. I really think we may have long-term potential. I'm quite serious. That's not a proposal, but it is true that I've been thinking of you in that way. I mean, as much as I can, based on brief acquaintance and instincts. I say, is that kaffir mutt with a chip on his shoulder going to hit me for being with you? If he is, I certainly want to enjoy all that he'll think I did."

Seaver laughed. "Morgan is a little too protective of me, I guess. But whatever you just called him, don't do it to his face. I know him well enough to know that he may in fact get violent if insulted. I think Hotch and I can call him off before he goes after you, otherwise. I'm more worried about what JJ and Hotch and Rossi will think of me than I care about what Derek thinks. He's not ever going to be someone whose opinion I need to determine my self worth. He's a damned hothead, regardless of his racial attitudes. But I have got a reputation to maintain in the Bureau, so I have to consider that. Still, these people have their own love lives, in which I don't interfere. Look, I don't like the Quantico/Washington, D.C. atmosphere much and I've been wanting to transfer, anyway. Are you serious about wanting to see me if I move out here?"

"Totally," he promised. "Remember, among other things, I promised to show you trout flies beyond the Royal Coachman. And there are other delights here. I want you to meet my family and see our winery. You'd probably enjoy seeing how wine is made, and we have won some top prizes for our efforts. Try our Sauvignon blanc or Riesling with fresh- caught broiled trout or salmon. And I think you'd like my family. The Pacific Northwest isn't a bad place to live. It's certainly far better than if you get transferred to New York, Chicago, Boston or some other national armpit! Most of what ails America oozes out from there or from California and taints everything."

"Whoa," said Ashley. "Let's not get political tonight, although I have to admit, you're right about that. So, I guess we vote the same way. We may have other things in common, too. But the issue now is whether we're going to go all the way tonight, on what sort of amounts to our first date. Honestly, Peter, would you respect me if I did? Many men wouldn't. And some would brag to their pals about laying me. A girl has to worry about things like that!"

"You don't, not with me. I'll respect you whether we fornicate tonight or not. And I still want you to think about moving out here, either way. I'm not only being selfish: I think you'd like it here. And I think we should think about getting much better acquainted and see where it leads. If you want to wait rather than fool around more, I understand."

He looked tenderly into her eyes, and Seaver knew in her heart that he was being honest. Something in her whispered that Peter Blacklaws was as honest a man as she was ever going to find, and that he wasn't just out to score with her and then discard her.

"All right," she said, a little hoarsely as she made up her mind. ""Let me swivel my legs around and unbuckle this belt and you can slip my jeans off. Be careful of the holster. I took my gun out already, but don't scratch the leather. It cost quite a bit; it's a Galco (brand). And I am on The Pill, and I have some with me. But dig out your rubbers, too. I hope to gosh that you haven't been carrying one around in your wallet long enough that it may have dried out and cracked. I've seen some that guys had been carrying that way for far too long. Did you get some at your house?"

"Yes, but I wasn't being presumptive, just hopeful. Let me dig in my bag behind the seat and I'll show you that they're fresh and in good condition. I may want children with you someday, but not this soon. But let me get those jeans and panties off first. By the way, this will go better if we move to the back seat. More room. I want this to be really good for you. And later, I'll make a fire and cook dinner for us. Our first camping trip together!"

Seaver blushed and swiveled her legs around and looked at Peter as he stripped her. She liked the way he looked at her, admiringly, genuinely impressed. His caresses along her leg made her draw a shaky breath as he got out and opened the rear door and set her gently in the back seat before joining her and producing the condoms from his travel bag. He brandished them triumphantly and she laughed. He tossed her jeans and panties in the front seat.

An hour later, he held her gently, kissing tenderly and running a hand over her as he told her how terrific she had been. "However this relationship goes in days to come, I want you to know that we got it off to a fantastic start!"

The couple embraced and murmured sweet somethings to one another and Peter asked Ashley if he could keep her panties. "First pair that I ever got off of you. I'm sentimental about them. I'll buy you a few replacements. We can go back and take advantage of those sales we found earlier. You can model the new ones for me, too."

"Sounds like a win-win situation for you, "she said. "But I sort of like the idea of showing off for you in some new ones and watching your eyes bulge out. And those shops did have some great deals. I guess I like you, Peter. You're one of the few men I'd feel comfortable going lingerie shopping with, let alone posing for in my undies. Wait: this isn't to fulfill your fantasies about Candice Swanepoel and Doutzen Wowtzen or whatever her name is? Anyway, I think Doutzen left the company after the 2014 fashion show. Not that most men don't still see her as the ultimate Dutch treat, I guess."

Peter was amused. "No, baby, I want to see you as yourself. You'd give them a run for their money, anyway, but one of them is married and has kids and the other has been dating the same guy for about ten years, since she was just 17. I think one of the TV entertainment shows said that she's actually engaged now. They've already been together longer than most marriages last these days. All I'd get from either is an autograph and maybe a smile. You, on the other hand…"

"Down, boy!" Ashley giggled as he played with her again. "Hey: didn't you threaten to cook tonight? Are you any good at it? And what about the bear and Bigfoot? What if they smell us cooking? Would they come after our food? Thinking of that bear eating that poor man just totally grosses me out! "

"It's possible, and I won't leave any trash by the car. And we'll have our rifles at hand. I'm loading my .44 Magnum and keeping it by me as we sleep, too. And I expect we'd better sleep in the car, not in the tent. Pity, but it seems prudent. The Fish & Game people will have someone hunt that bear down soon, but not until we've left. Of course, if it does come after us tonight, you can shoot it and show JJ the hide. I'm sure that would be the highlight of her trip out here."

They laughed about that and handed one another various pieces of their clothing, Seaver playfully tugging at her panties as Blacklaws sought to retain them. He had been serious about wanting them as a trophy or souvenir. Finally, she relented and let him have them. The idea of shopping with him for replacements did have its appeal. She got her bag and took out a spare pair and they dressed and got out groceries and a camp stove. Seaver made sure to take her borrowed rifle with her as they cleared a space for a fire.

Then, she realized with a jolt that if the kidnapers or other threats were out here, the fire would highlight them. What might scare a bear off could attract a human predator!

"Unlikely," said Blacklaws when she expressed this misgiving. "But after we eat and bag the trash, we'll drive down the road a bit to be away from where we were when the fire was lit. And we'll sit on opposite sides of the fire and watch one another's backs. We can hold one another later, in the car. And I must say, I'm looking forward to that. I say, Ashley? You're a Federal cop. Isn't it a conflict of interest for you to also be an addictive substance?"

"Flatterer!" she scoffed. "But I hope you do get addicted to me, Studly. I think I'd like that. What if we do become mutually addicted? You appeal to me a lot, too."

"No worries," said the handsome deputy. "It'd settle your issue of wondering whether to move to Washington. You'd come out here for good and I'd have you conveniently in my clutches."

She looked seriously at her new lover. "I can think of worse places to be, Peter. You're very nearly as good with girls as you think you are."

And she shivered a little as he took her hand and pulled her into his arms, for just a short hug, this time.

"Ashley Seaver, it's too soon to be certain, but I think I love you."

"Just keep thinking that way, Peter. I like your reasoning. And I think it may be mutual. Are you going to hold my hand later when we're back with our friends and bosses? I'm not sure I can keep from showing how I feel about you."

"We'll hold hands," he promised. "I don't give a rotten, sun- baked meerkat for who knows about us. I think it's better that I seem proud of you than trying to hide how I feel."

And on that note, eyes shining, they embraced again until Peter mumbled something about dinner and they reluctantly parted and prepared to feed their hunger of another kind.


	28. Chapter 28

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 28

Meanwhile, back at the motel, the agents had eaten dinner and were going about private business before bedtime. Hotchner called his girlfriend, trying to iron out the differences which had seen him come to work angry on the previous Monday. Unfortunately, because so much of her pique was due to his working unpredictable schedules and often working nights when a case required that, he made little headway, and was discouraged when he hung up. He concluded that they were at an impasse, and the girl had been ragging on him for some time, trying to get him to accept her demands in various areas. He decided to dump her, but to wait until the case was closed and he'd returned to Quantico. He was feeling rather low when Rossi knocked on his door.

"Oh, hi, Dave. Come in," he said. "You're just in time with that bottle. Jennifer and I went at it again and I think our relationship is over." He explained the reason for his gloom and Rossi nodded, getting glasses from the bathroom and pouring them each a good slug of The Glenlivet.

"Here, Aaron. Scotch cures all, or at least a little. I saw this coming when she started trying to 'reform' you a couple of months ago. One of the things that I hate about most American women is that they want to run the show and try to manipulate men. I've been through three divorces, and the hours we work were a factor in all. But the manipulation and mother-in-law factors were there, too. If I get married again, maybe it'll be to an Oriental gal who's had the epicanthal fold removed from her eyelids. They look pretty good that way, and they seem less inclined to think they should be in charge in a marriage. Or, maybe I'll risk a European one. I saved back issues of,_ Playboy _from back when they ran those issues with _The Girls of Finland_ and other countries. Maybe I should get those out and peruse them and see which nationalities I should try to select from."

Hotchner laughed. "Well, don't choose the Girls of Albania, Cuba, Venezuela, China, or Russia. They've got some hotties and they may be more obedient and supportive than US women, but if you fool around with them, it'll probably fuck your security clearance. Maybe Czechs are okay now, and they have some real lookers. Seems about half of the famous models who aren't Brazilian these days are Czech. Not sure about Danes. Are they really melancholy? What do you know about Finns and Swedes? They might be okay and they have a lot of blondes. Icelandics often look as good as any and their last names are easy to remember. They all end in 'dotter ', meaning 'daughter' of whoever their dad's name is. But many are alcoholics and I bet some do drugs, too."

Rossi nodded. "I read that. A friend in the Air Force said that he's found a lot of Canadian girls eager to marry an American and move here. But they might be too much like American girls except that they say, 'eh' more often. Eh?" He laughed.

"Yeah, "Hotchner agreed. "But I'll probably try another American. I think I'll just avoid those from the northern states, where Political Correctness and feminism are so rampant.

"Look: do you have any feel for where this case is going? I told Morgan to call Garcia tonight and see if she can find any property owned by Bamka or his pal that we haven't found out about. And to research any other remote properties that aren't occupied. These bastards who took the girls have to have someplace where they're holding them. They aren't just camping out."

Rossi agreed, but noted the case of Elizabeth Smart, whose aging hippie captors did in fact live under rustic conditions. "And back in the 1960's, some nut in Pennsylvania grabbed a girl and dragged her off into the winter woods. She was recovered and he was killed before cops ever found out his final plans. But, yeah, they probably have some cave or house where the girls are being kept. Did you petition the Federal judge in Seattle to let us raid the Miller place and anywhere else that realtor owns or has control of"?

"Yeah. I asked the SAC in Seattle to file the request. We should know by midmorning if the judge approved it. But he has maybe 55 properties listed and a few not on the market. Even if we concentrate on those not listed for sale now, that's 12 houses where they could have those girls. Ford is checking utility bills to see if it looks like any are running water and air conditioning. If so, those will have to take priority. I'd like to see receipts from those two guys' grocery and drug purchases. If they're buying non-male items, that'd be more evidence. But I don't even know where they shop, and if we ask for receipts, the stores would go nuts trying to pick them out unless they paid with credit cards. Garcia is already looking for their total credit purchases. "

Rossi thought. "We could get FBI surveillance planes to fly around and see if there's any sign of life at the most suspicious houses. They'd need to stay high enough to avoid being obvious and couldn't swing by any one house much. Grant Ford can probably lead us onto the grounds of any that look good, and we can use binoculars or spotting scopes to see any activity. At night, they'd need lights, too. We'll find them, Aaron. I just hope they don't realize that we're looking so thoroughly. If they suspect us, they'll kill those girls and bury them far off and deep!"

Hotchner agreed. "We'll see what the judges issue warrants for and go from there. And I will request the SAC to send a plane or two by the more logical places, once we have a complete list of all their real estate holdings. Until we have that, anything we do may just backfire or be ineffective."

They went back to discussing women and after an hour called it a night. But Hotchner felt better for having talked it over with Rossi. Friends were good to have.


	29. Chapter 29

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 29

In the dark, Peter and Ashley ate, and then sat up under a blanket and watched stars with the binoculars that he'd brought. They swapped off with using his Zeiss Victory model 10X56B/GA and a Docter 15X60. Both were rubber armored to lessen the possibility of damage in wilderness or military use. The larger glass was hard to hold really steady, and Seaver had to brace it on a tree limb to see stars sharply. Although it revealed detail in far stars and the Orion nebula, the smaller 10X56 was better for seeing larger amounts of sky. It was also very effective at finding what showed of the crescent Moon. The Moon being small, the dark sky was astounding and he had to explain to her how to find constellations under such a myriad of stars as was here, in this dark place far from city lights. Seaver had forgotten what it was like to view the Milky Way from a remote location, and the sight was breathtaking for a city dweller. Even the more compact 8X32BA Leica gathered enough light to show surprising details in the heavens. Finally, Peter had brought along a brand new Zeiss 8X42, their newest, most expensive model. He wanted to try it out under dark skies and see how he liked it in the wilderness. It offered amazingly bright, sharp, images, although all of his binoculars were exceptional items, from the best makers of such instruments. He was an admitted "optics nut" and spent more than he really should to buy top quality. But these binoculars were wonderful for hunting, birdwatching, and police surveillance as well as for astronomy and general nature observation.

In time, they adjourned to the car, where he explained that a terrible cry in the night was from a loon, not from a tortured soul or a grim beast. "Probably headed south for the winter," he explained. "Loons and other waterfowl pass though here and their call is rather eerie if you don't recognize it, what? But pretend this is a scary film and the call frightened you. You'd snuggle next to me and beg to be held, right? Feel free to do that now. I gather that is the main reason why men like to take dates to horror films. It seems a reasonable return to the fellow for what movie tickets cost, at least if the girl is pretty enough."

Seaver laughed. "And am I pretty enough to take to a scary movie, Peter?"

He held her face gently, looked into her eyes, and kissed them. "Oh, yes, Ashley. I think you're pretty enough to take anywhere. But out here, where I so love the woods and the feel of nature generally, you seem a special delight."

There were other sounds, including owls that she recognized. But one scream nearly unnerved her. "What the devil was that?"

"Cougar," said Blacklaws, and he checked to see that the windows were closed nearly to the top and loaded his Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum, even more potent than his .357. "I hope it doesn't come here and make a nuisance of itself. Those cats do sometimes attack people and have to be treated with caution. I need to load the .44 anyway, though, against the possibility of Bigfoot or the bear finding us. A rifle is too awkward to manipulate in the SUV, if one does try to break in. And I sure don't want to be in a car or a closed room if we fire a rifle shot. The concussion would probably deafen us, at least temporarily, maybe forever. If it walks out in front, I'll turn on the lights and that may scare it away. A bear may smash a window, and Bigfoot could throw a rock through the windshield or use a branch to break it. But hopefully, these things won't happen. If they do, the game department be hanged. I'm going to shoot, bear license or not! With a killer bear on the loose here, I don't think the warden will make an issue of it if we shoot a bear under what looks like clearly defensive conditions. But a broken window would confirm to the snittiest warden that we were at risk. As for Bigfoot, they aren't listed game animals, so if we seemed at risk, I don't see us being charged with anything, even if it proves to be a primitive human or close relation. After all, we can kill a human in self defense, eh? And if we do have to shoot a Bigfoot, it'll save Chris's career if he says they exist and some conservative scientists claim they can't. We'd have positive proof. And I can write magazine articles, maybe a book, about how we killed the first Bigfoot ever verified. The downside is, if he breaks a window, the night would be a mite chilly. So, there are tradeoffs. Little in life is wholly without a downside."

Seaver chuckled softly. "Peter, I think you're teasing me a little. If you're just trying to scare me into your arms, I'm already there. But, seriously? Could that happen? Do you really think the animals, either, might try to get at us in the car?"

"Hell, yes! The cougar, maybe not. But it might jump on the hood and dent it or try to swipe a paw at us if the window was down. Keep those up. It won't get hot. The night will just get colder, and we may need a second blanket. But don't lower the window for anything unless you tell me first and we're alert in case of any attack. In June of 2015, a Yank lady tourist was at a lion park in Johannesburg and lowered a window, despite warning signs. She leaned out and tried to film the cats. One got her and it was all over for her. The lion must not have realized that she was an animal hugger and was a special effects editor for a TV show, and was therefore exempt from the laws of Nature. Not! Wildlife is often not as depicted on warm, fuzzy nature programming designed to appeal to the naïve. I love Nature and animals, but I know them for what they are, and I don't take bloody foolish chances. If I watch a lion or a bear, I do it through a binocular at a reasonable distance, and I have a gun in case things go awry. I shot my first lion at 15, and I've only gained more respect for them since. One day, they'll run from a shadow. The next, they may lay still, bored stiff. The third day, you may be charged, and if that happens, you're about six seconds from eternity if the lion comes from within 100 yards. They're fast, and a single bite in the thorax may be all it takes to do you in. Even the impact of a 450 pound lion slamming into you may break bones. And the claws…Heard enough? The bears here and a cougar, mountain lion, or puma, all the same cat, is less large, but they'll make a thorough mess of a person in short order. Most people attacked don't even know the cat is there until it's on them.

"The moral of this for tonight is, leave the damn windows up. Even if they try to get in, the noise may wake us in time to shoot. I'd rather risk a punctured eardrum from the noise of a gunshot indoors than be torn apart by a bear that wants to consume me. And if one smells food in the car, they may indeed become aggressive. The closed windows also prevent them from sniffing any food we have. By the way, we don't see many grizzlies here, but it's possible. They're even more dangerous than black bears. But to the surprise of many, most predatory bear attacks come from black bears. I think that's partly because there are a lot more of them, south of Alaska.

"Tired? We need to decide how to sleep. I can lower this back seat and make a bed. We can both sleep back here. Suit you?"

"Sure, but what if I need to tinkle later? "

"In that event, wake me. We'll go together and I'll wait just out of sight as you manage. We'll take lights and guns and hope. Probably, nothing will happen. But look for snakes, too. Remember that rattler that we saw earlier? It's still warm enough for snakes to be out, even at night."

"Okay," she agreed. "Let's open the seat and snuggle. I am tired. I don't suppose you brought eggs for breakfast? I'm not looking forward to having sardines or canned tuna then. "

"I did indeed bring eggs, in the cooler chest. And we have whole wheat bread. And Spam. When entertaining beautiful ladies, a Blacklaws man thinks of everything."

Seaver laughed and hugged him. "Keep that up, and the lady may entertain you right back. How soon do you think the road crews will get here and open that landslide?"

"The better part of morning until noon, I think. But we'd better have our clothes on again by ten, if you mean what I think you do. I'll set an alarm on my phone for seven. And we need to call our bosses and be sure they don't plan to somehow rescue us before we finish being really affectionate. I don't want that chap Reid or that feisty Morgan to trek over the rocks and surprise us, trying to save you from my evil designs. That could prove embarrassing, maybe even detrimental to our careers."

Seaver nuzzled his ear. "Maybe sex first, and then cook breakfast? The sun will be up by then, too, so we can see bears and snakes better."

"What an intelligent suggestion for a woman, and a blonde, at that! Ashley, I think you may be a real gem. Look, have you got any vacation time coming? I could do with a house guest, if so."

"Let me think about that. I may take you up on the offer, if Hotch agrees. But I'd need a way back to Seattle when I have to leave."

"Absolutely not to worry. I can drive you. Just tell Hotchner that you have a unique opportunity to remain with me and study trout flies and other fascinating things. I'm sure he'll understand. And I have some vacation time coming, too."

"We'll see, "she promised. "A lot may depend on how long it takes to solve these murders and save those girls."

And on that note, they opened the seats and made their bed. They had no idea as yet what they would see later that morning. But it would prove to be a singular event for both.


	30. Chapter 30

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 30

The alarm sounded, and Seaver and Blacklaws grudgingly rose, murmured tender sentiments and went out to relieve their bladders and stretch. They were careful to use flashlights, as the sun had yet to fully illuminate the forest floor, and shadows were rampant and perhaps masked places to turn an ankle or conceal a snake.

Back at the car, they made a fire distant enough not to ignite any gasoline fumes or cause other issues, and fried scrambled eggs and Spam. There was a fresh jar of Gray Poupon Country Dijon mustard for the Spam. Blacklaws opened a can of pineapple and they brewed coffee, the smell of which was heavenly and invigorating.

"I can open some sardines if you're still hungry," offered the tall deputy.

Seaver rolled her eyes and laughed, knowing that he was teasing her.

They cleaned up and got the vehicle back in shape after their night in the back and had another coffee as they discussed what to do until the rescue party arrived. They each fielded calls from their supervisors, who were relieved to find that all was well. Ford said that he had talked with the road crew supervisor and that both a bulldozer and a grader and workmen were enroute with dump trucks and that they should arrive in an hour or two. Phone reception was sketchy, but audible.

"I think I want to walk down to the river and see which tracks we can find," said Blacklaws. "You'd be surprised what that can tell you about what passed in the night, and if Bigfoot was there, I need to know, not to mention about that damned bear. Bring your rifle and we'll take binoculars, too. We may see some game or birds worth watching."

Despite some misgiving, Ashley agreed and they were soon down at the river, some hundred feet wide here and flowing smoothly without strong rapids. Sign along the banks told of raccoons, coyotes, and what was possibly a marten or similar weasel-like animal. Blacklaws pointed out a beaver dam at one pool and they saw a variety of birds.

Finally, they went back up the hill and scouted the area from the advantage of height. It was well that they did, for she spotted something moving several hundred yards out at about their one o'clock angle. She helped her partner to locate it by relating its position in relation to a lightning-blasted tree, and then he also saw the moving shape.

Sitting on a log, he adjusted the focus of his precise German binocular and gasped. "That's a Bigfoot, I think. Ashley, look! What the hell is that? That's no bear! It's walking upright and rather like a heavy man. Quick, get a good look before it gets into those trees! We may be seeing the stuff of legend and are probably having one of the great adventures of our lives right now!" He struggled to hold the big astronomical binocular steady and tried to control his breathing.

Ashley confirmed what he saw, and handed him the smaller 8X42 Zeiss to better let him follow the animal in the wider field of view as it strolled along with a rolling gait, looking carefully around as it went. And then, it was gone, into a patch of tall, dark timber.

"We aren't going after that thing, are we?" demanded the FBI agent. "Peter, it's on the other side of the river. It must have crossed somewhere during the night. It's so tall and powerful that it can probably swim or ford the water where we can't. I'm scared of it. How tall is it? Ten, twelve feet? Are you going to shoot at it if we see it again?" These questions poured out of her like water from a pitcher and she was breathing heavily and had to sit and brace herself on the log. She fumbled for the rifle and checked to see that the magazine was loaded. Something raw and primeval shook her inner core and she knew a dread never before experienced.

Blacklaws swung up his Winchester .375 Magnum and set the variable telescopic sight to maximum magnification. "I can't hold steady enough to hit something at that range," he announced. "Besides, I'm not sure we should shoot at it unless threatened."

He lowered the 'scope power to 3X, to let him quickly acquire the animal or the bear if either approached. He set the rifle aside and took out his pocket notebook and a stainless Parker T-Ball Jotter pen and asked Ashley to confirm just where they'd seen the animal moving and where it'd disappeared. He then made careful sketches, including landmarks, so they could later find tracks, if any were present.

That done, he called Chris van Reenan and told him what they'd just seen. The big scientist was astonished and insisted they each repeat the story before he was sure they weren't having a joke at his expense. Then, he said that he'd call the sheriff and wildlife officials and bring a boat so they could cross the river and photograph any evidence of the creature. "This is one of the greatest natural history stories of this century, if we can prove what you saw," he added, quite unnecessarily.

"Bring hip boots or waders, too," Blacklaws admonished. "Some of that land over there looks swampy. But I swear Chris, we did see what I said, and we both used both binoculars and braced our elbows on our knees for steadiness. I'd testify in court to what we saw."

"I'm calling Hotch," announced Seaver, and did.

That gentleman finally accepted that she had seen what she thought, or was at least convinced of the validity of the sight. He said that he was bringing the entire team there, and they would bring an evidence team to make casts of any footprints.

"But we can't linger for too long," he added. "The federal judge in Seattle is supposed to let us know this morning if we have probable cause and warrants to search some of you-know-whose property. As significant as this Bigfoot sighting is, our primary duty now is to locate those girls. Even the murders have to take a back seat to that for now."

Seaver agreed, and they hung up. But she looked at Blacklaws and he looked back, and finally, he said, "Ashley, we have really seen something today."

She hugged herself and nodded. "That's the understatement of the year."


	31. Chapter 31

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 31

By 11:00AM, the road crew had arrived and in about an hour, had cleared a path wide enough for people to walk through the landslide. Hotchner, Morgan, and Jareau walked through, with Ford and a paramedic carrying an emergency bag, in case the stranded persons had been injured.

Blacklaws and Seaver drove the Toyota over to meet them, having seen them approach through binoculars. They eased concerns that they had any wounds or other trauma and Blacklaws even offered to set up his stove and brew coffee.

"We have some peanut butter crackers, too," he offered. "But when Chris gets here, we need to get a boat across the river and find tracks where we saw that Bigfoot. This may be the scientific find of the century, animal-wise."

Reid appeared now, with a large box of donuts and a deputy with Thermoses of coffee in a large canvas shopping bag.

"Let this be our treat," said Hotchner. "We thought you might want donuts and weren't sure what food you had. JJ said that she was afraid that Ashley had to eat sardines or something equally unappealing to the feminine palate. But they'll have that road cleared soon and we can eat lunch in town. The donuts will have to do until then. Now, you're quite serious about this monster sighting? Ashley, did you personally see that and how would you describe it?"

"I did and it was a big animal, sort of like an upright gorilla. It kept looking around, as if expecting to find something or was afraid that it was being pursued. But it could have been looking for food, I guess. I don't think it saw us. We got really good looks at it through those expensive German binoculars for almost a minute. I'll never forget what I saw. It was like something out of a movie or a Bigfoot TV show, but this was real! "

"Probably some tall guy in a gorilla suit," grumbled Morgan. "How can you two believe something like that? And are you okay, Ashley? Everything go okay up here last night?"

He glowered at Blacklaws, who gave him a cool, studied look in response.

Seaver was afraid that the two men might have a confrontation and was tired of Morgan's parental attitude, anyway.

"I don't think it was a man in a suit, Derek, and we had a fine night. We slept in the car so the bear didn't get us and we got along really well and you do not need to be further concerned with my chastity. ..DADDY! I'm a big girl now and Peter was a perfect gentleman."

Jareau laughed. "What bothers Derek is that he's heard the old description of a gentleman as being a man who leans on his elbows. Supposed to come from a showgirl who told that to a reporter years ago. Seriously, I'm glad that you two had a nice night, considering, and if what you saw was actually a real Sasquatch, wow! Does that mean that you think it could really be involved in these murders? We know that humans got the missing girls. Bigfoot sure didn't make them record those phone videos! So how significant is it to this case if there's a hairy monster up here?"

Blacklaws was stunned. "Well, it may or may not be significant to the case otherwise, but if that Bigfoot scared off the bear and may have fed on a human corpse, it's certainly part of _that_ case, and people may be in danger. That has to be considered as well as anything else we're working."

Hotchner said that they should let the sheriff's department and the state Game & Fish people handle the killing and partial consumption of the bear victim. "The Bureau's responsibility is to the missing women and their families and then to solving the earlier murders. This bear thing isn't really a homicide, _per se. _I admit that the Bigfoot angle is fascinating from a personal standpoint but if we can rule the latest death up here attributable to an animal, I need to take my team back to Elk Pass and determine how to proceed on the case that concerns us. The federal judge has reluctantly authorized warrants to search any properties that we can show a reasonable suspicion are involved. But he told Phillip Gaines in Seattle that he thinks it's pretty tenuous to suspect Bamka of kidnapping just because he bought some pretty lingerie and ordered some restraints like are often used in B&D play. It's not illegal for him to be kinky, unless he crosses the line into crime. The judge told us to proceed with care and to try to document our reasons for surveillance before we do anything not backed up by more solid facts. In the meantime, he did authorize checking phone records in case that might give us real leads, and we can tap Bamka's phones, all of them. And we can initiate flights to see if we can spot any unusual activity around these properties that may infer that the kidnappers are there.

"So Ashley, Peter: do you want to stay with my team and follow this case or remain up here and look for a killer bear and a beast that may turn out to be a hoax? If you two work together, each of you can be the liaisons between FBI and the Sheriff. But Grant and I are already communicating well on that, so I'm really offering you two the chance to be where you feel you can make the best contribution. Sheriff? Do you need Peter back with your unit?"

Ford looked carefully from Seaver to Blacklaws and shrugged. "I have a lot of faith in Peter and he seems to work well with Seaver. Like Aaron, I'm going to let you two float where you can do the most good. But don't make me regret that. I want you two to do some detective work, not just hang out and enjoy one another's company."

"Hey!" exclaimed Seaver. "Okay, so Peter and I like one another. But we didn't get stuck up here last night just to be alone together. That landslide was legitimate and we nearly got caught in it. We'll work this case as hard as anyone, but I would like to stay with Peter if I can."

Their supervisors nodded, and Hotchner told them to greet the biologist and the state hunters and then to rejoin his team in town once they had seen the wildlife end of the matter get well underway.

"If you can follow that bear and kill it, okay, but don't take more than a few hours before returning to town. Chris or the Washington wardens will tell us if they kill the bear later. We're only interested if you turn up some angle that suggests that Bigfoot was involved in the serial murders, and I doubt that."

They got into the donuts and poured coffee and Seaver and Blacklaws went over again what they had seen that morning. And then, the other teams arrived with Dr. van Reenan and they repeated it still again.

"Hotch, can I stay with Ashley for awhile?" asked Jareau. "I want to be up here in the woods and clear my head of some stress cobwebs and looking for the bear will let me do that. We'll all be back in town by late this afternoon right, Peter?"

The tall deputy nodded, surprised that Jareau, the woman uneasy about bears, would want to stay and look for one that was a known killer. But if it got Hotchner to cut him some slack about hanging out with Seaver, he wasn't going to complain. And he wondered whether Jareau might want to talk privately to him or to Seaver. He had a feeling that this day was going to get more complex as it wore on.

Hotchner agreed for Jareau to remain and the agents and deputies sorted out what they'd do in town. The main FBI team less Jareau and Seaver went back to their cars and returned to Elk Pass, speculating about Bigfoot being real, or if not, what had their friends really seen? The evidence track impressions in Blacklaws's Toyota had greatly impressed all. Hotchner and Reid were astounded by what they must mean. Even Morgan had been subdued, shocked at what he saw.

They passed a TV van and a car they recognized as belonging to a newspaper reporter and Morgan rolled his eyes.

"Looks like the press is here," he murmured. "I don't envy our team members who stayed. They can deal with that part of this thing. I'm not diplomatic enough or patient enough."

"I'm a little short of patience today, myself," admitted Hotchner. "We had to come up here to show the Bureau's presence and interest. But we really accomplished little and need to do more. And soon!"

"Maybe Garcia has found all the property listings," suggested Reid. "If we have those, we can start to figure out which to monitor or raid."

And on that note, they accelerated down the road once they reached the paved highway leading back to Elk Pass. Little did they know what JJ Jareau would soon discover back in the dark forest.


	32. Chapter 32

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 32

After Hotchner and the others left for Elk Pass, the teams at the forest scene divided. The biologist (van Reenan) and a game warden joined a deputy with a camera and took a boat across the river, pursuing the Bigfoot report. They radioed that it was well that they'd brought waders, as the land was indeed swampy in the reeds where the animal left the river, coming ashore. Tracks left at one point led them to follow a trail, which was often indistinct. But the size and shape of these tracks and other sign, like broken twigs and grass that was still depressed from the passage of a heavy animal kept them on the path.

The Washington state team wanted to wait for a dog pack to arrive before seeking the bear, let alone a Bigfoot.

Blacklaws announced that he wanted to take a look at the death scene, in case the bear might have returned, seeking the corpse. In any event, it had been there in the first place, so must sometimes frequent that part of the forest. Seaver wanted to come, as did Jareau.

"JJ, you don't have to do this," offered Seaver. "Peter and I can go, and you can stay with the other deputies and the Game & Fish people will probably leave a guy with you and the cars. I know you have a dread of bears. Why stress yourself by going where we think we'll find one, and a proven killer, at that?"

Jareau shuddered a little, but declared that she needed to face her fear and conquer it, or she'd never live it down. "Some people would tease me and I'd feel that I'd sold myself short. I need to prove to myself and to everyone else that I have the courage for this. I'm going. Don't worry. I'll be quiet and pay attention.

"I have the 10mm carbine that Hotch left for me, and I think I know where to shoot a bear. And this is the only place where anything is happening. Nothing's shaking in town, unless they overhear some really damning conversation on those phone records. I didn't join the Bureau to just sit and look at photos of bad things. I want to help make a difference. "

Blacklaws smiled and nodded. "Good show, JJ. I admire your courage. I'll go over shot placement on bears with you. You can't just fire at the whole animal. I'll tell you where the quickly lethal zones are. That depends on how the bear is turned. I'll make a few quick sketches and let you be sure where to shoot, if need be. And I think you deserve a reward for coming, given your bear phobia. So, when we leave here, I'm taking you and Ashley for a steak dinner in town. We'll all be hungry by then, I'm sure, and I have no objections at all to being seen in public with two outstanding blondes."

The women laughed, but Jareau had reservations. "I'll take you up on that if I won't be in the way when you and Ashley want to get personal. But isn't it a little sexist to offer to treat just the women agents?"

Blacklaws laughed. "I hope so. You do have appearance advantages over men, at least to a 'straight' man like me. I'm not awfully PC, anyway, and I like girls. Are you going to report me to some Federal PC watchdog agency or a TV network? "

Jareau smiled back. "No. But I want you to respect me as an agent, not just gawk at me as a blonde. As for Ashley, be careful what you do with her. You don't want to be charged with misuse of government property. Sorry, Ashley: I couldn't resist."

Seaver rolled her eyes and said, "Peter hasn't misused me. In fact, he used me very skillfully. You're just jealous. The 'government property' pussy is very happy with the local usage. He proved that old saying is true for girls, the one about a hard man being good to find."

Jareau was shocked and stood briefly speechless. Then, she looked at Blacklaws, who was blushing and trying not to laugh. Finally, both women burst out laughing and he joined them.

"Ladies, I think it's time we went bear hunting. We're attracting stares." And Blacklaws picked up a day pack and his rifle and led them down the dirt path toward the death scene.

When out of sight of the others, he paused and drew sketches of bears in the dirt with a twig, showing Jareau and Seaver where to aim. Ashley had already had much the same lecture the previous day, and felt confident of stopping the bear if it charged. But that would require quick aiming and careful shot placement. Would her nerves hold? What if the bear was roaring at her? That would be truly scary!

She checked that the Leupold telescopic sight on her Howa 7mm-08 was turned down to 2X, the lowest power setting and the one that provided the widest field of view in the eyepiece. If the bear was sighted, it would be at fairly close range in these trees and she needed as wide a view as possible. The low magnification would be more than enough for the range involved. Jareau's H-K 10mm carbine had iron sights, well able to cope without optical aid under the conditions. Blacklaws set his 'scope sight at 3X, its lowest power. Actually, he usually left it at 3X, a good setting for the circumstances in which he used the .375 Magnum rifle.

They moved off down the trail, trying to keep binoculars, canteens, and other items from clinking together and alerting the bear. Jareau's heart was pounding, but she was determined to have this adventure.


	33. Chapter 33

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 33

The trail into the woods along the narrow path soon immersed Blacklaws and the women in a world apart from that which the agents usually knew. Several times, he paused to point out or whisper about items seen, and they detoured at one point to see what was rustling in the shadows about 75 yards off the trail. This turned out to be a pair of raccoons who began squabbling over some food of unknown origin, but it was too small a meal to provoke interest on the part of the hunters. No human body there...

They passed the rocks where they'd seen the rattlesnake and kept a careful eye out for it.

And finally, they found the death scene and carefully studied the tracks and the dried blood that made the grass sticky and troubling.

Strolling around, Blacklaws soon found additional bear tracks proving that the killer had indeed returned and rummaged around. It had sharpened its claws on a tree, standing, marking its territory.

Jareau stared uneasily at the tracks, especially those from the Bigfoot.

"I thought those things were pure myth," she admitted. "But these just can't be phony. I see now why Chris was so sure they'd be almost impossible to fake. The detail in some is just amazing! Peter, how long has it been since the bear came back? Can you tell from its tracks?"

"I can make a shrewd guess," he answered. He bent to the tracks and studied several, noting where some rims had fallen in, the dirt dried at the edges of others. Those in shade were fresher looking than those in the sun. He looked to see if the grass that had been walked on had fully erected again and other factors.

"It was here during the night, but probably not for long after dawn. The freshest tracks seem to lead toward a stream a couple of hundred yards from here that feeds that small lake where the victim was planning to fish. In the absence of any better clues, I suggest that we stalk forward and see if we sight fresher tracks or other sign that the bear went that way. The dogs should be here soon, but we might get lucky first. Be sure that you have a cartridge in the chamber and the safety applied on your weapon. If we see that bear, he'll either come for us fast or depart fast. Either way, we'll need to swing up our guns and shoot for a vital area. Be sure that you're shooting at a bear, not at a deer or anything else that might jump out and run. Don't panic if you see the bear or anything else that scares you. And don't fire wildly at a noise. Just not done, not by responsible, prudent hunters. There may be other people out looking for that bear or just traipsing in the woods. Right, here we go. If you need to chamber a cartridge, do it now. The sound may alert the bear later."

Jareau and Seaver looked at one another and Seaver said, "Peter, we are both trained, veteran FBI agents who have shot it out with really bad people. I think we can manage a bear. Our weapons are ready. Just find us the bear, Mr. Macho."

"Oops, sorry, ladies. Didn't mean to step on any feminist corns. But there aren't a lot of men whom I'd want along on a venture like this, either. I wish to gosh that Chris was here. I hope he finds that damned Bigfoot. But if I didn't basically trust you to be cool and brave, you wouldn't be here. Please forgive me if I seemed too paternal. Probably comes from having a grandfather who really was a Great White Hunter. Well, shall we?" And he led the way cautiously toward the stream.

About 150 yards back into the trees, they found a rotting log that had been ripped open, with bear tracks in abundance. Blacklaws whispered, "Bear. He was after grubs. May still be close. And hungry."

They reached the stream without incident and patrolled the banks for a distance, watching for bear sign. They found none, and Jareau asked to sit on a big rock overhanging a wide pool where she saw small cutthroat trout darting about in the gin-clear water. She rejoiced at seeing a frog in the reeds at the edge of the pool.

"This looks so peaceful, Peter," she murmured. "I see why this forest appeals to you. It's sort of restoring to the soul."

"That it is," he agreed.

He and Ashley went on for a bit, warning Jareau not to get far behind. They paused behind a large tree and some ferns and seeing nothing awry, set their rifles aside and began making out. Ashley suppressed a giggle and groaned softly as Peter ran the backs of his fingers over her breasts, feeling the nipples rise in response as his touch reached through the fabric of her shirt and bra.

Suddenly, Peter stiffened and withdrew from his embrace, reaching for the .375 Magnum Winchester. Ashley realized that he had heard something and lifted her rifle, too. What had disturbed Blacklaws? She heard nothing at first, and then a leaf rustled some 50 yards away, on the path leading back to Jareau at the stream.

The couple pussyfooted along, wary of any noise and prepared to shout a warning to Jareau. Was she still at that rock by the water?

In fact, she had just left the big rock where she had looked at the trout and was following the trail to her friends. She heard a leaf crushed quietly and spun to see a large black bear within 50 yards and approaching her. Its approach had been almost silent and she realized with a start that the animal had been stalking her!

On realizing that he had been seen, the bear uttered a gruff "whuff!" and came straight for the blonde agent. The stuff of her nightmares was suddenly present and real and dreadful. Jareau screamed and raised her Heckler und Koch carbine, trying to find the fast moving bruin in the sights. The bear roared and her knees felt like they were about to collapse. Hoping for the best, she pulled the trigger and sent a trio of bullets toward the furry menace that was now so close. She had had no idea how fast a charging bear would come and felt terror on a previously unknown level.

"Peter!" she screamed and fired again.


	34. Chapter 34

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 34

Jareau felt the 10mm H-K, basically a submachine gun that fired only in semi-auto mode, buck in recoil and heard the bear bawl a heart-stopping howl as it continued toward her. She registered a sharp crack that she soon learned was Seaver's 7mm rifle, and then the heavier boom of Blacklaws's .375. The bear rolled, shot from the side through both shoulders.

It tried to sit up and took another .375 H&H Magnum bullet through the chest, the bullet drilling back through the body and smashing the spine. Jareau pumped two more 10mm bullets into it as this happened and the agents all looked at one another, Seaver remembering to cycle the bolt and load a fresh cartridge into the chamber of her rifle. (Blacklaws had done that as a matter of routine, having long since learned to operate bolt-action rifles against dangerous animals. He was very accomplished in operating rifle bolts rapidly, and did so while firing from the shoulder. Most hunters lower the rifle to cycle the bolt, adding often vital seconds to the process.)

He called both women to him and they approached the bear from behind, ready to shoot again if need be, but it was dead.

They heard shouts down the trail and the baying of approaching hounds, and soon the game warden and others were there, shocked to see the bear down.

"That sounded like you'd gotten into a shootout with a drug cartel," teased the warden. "Nice work, though, Blacklaws! We'll do a necropsy on the bear and if it has human remains in it, we'll know you got the right one. There was only one attack in the state this month, so I think this is the culprit. Let's track it back and see if it was stalking Agent Jareau. If that was a predatory stalk, it's almost certainly the same bear. It was a confirmed man-eater, and most bears don't deliberately hunt people. Apparently, this one had begun doing that. It's a good thing you nailed it."

They cast about for tracks in the direction from which the animal had approached and it was indeed clear that it had quietly been sneaking close enough for a charge at Jareau. That agent sat on a log and began shaking.

Seaver joined her and the women hugged briefly, Seaver speaking softly and comfortingly to her companion, then got themselves under control. Blacklaws explained to the embarrassed men that Jareau had nightmares about bears, and she probably had a phobia of dangerous wildlife.

"That's all right, ma'am," spoke one of the state wardens. "My wife gets all riled up if a bear or cougar is seen anywhere near our house. Gets the kids in, of course. She's even more scared for them than for herself. But she's a good woman. A renegade bear that eats folks isn't to be trifled with."

"I wasn't trifling with him, "snapped a still emotional Jareau. "I was trying to kill him! Did I hit him, Peter?"

They examined the wounds, but apart from those from the heavy .375, which Blacklaws knew the impact region of, it was inconclusive. The warden explained that a biologist would identify the bullets during the necropsy. "But you hit him, ma'am. There are eight bullet wounds we can find, and the others didn't fire that many shots." The warden wanted to reassure the tense agent.

"Can JJ have the hide?" asked Seaver. "I want it but I think she deserves it most."

It was explained that the hide, being that of a bear shot in defense and not taken under a valid hunting license, would probably be forfeited to the state, but the senior warden promised to see if some strings could be pulled administratively after the official necropsy report.

"That's kind of you, Ashley," said Jareau, "but I don't want that thing. I'd shiver every time I passed it on my wall. Let Peter have it or you take it."

They collected their things and left the wardens to remove the bear after photographing the scene. Blacklaws was surprised and pleased to note that both women cleared the chambers of their firearms and reloaded the magazines as they left. They showed good training and discipline, not always present among amateur hunters under such circumstances.

At the cars, they loaded their things and telephoned the sheriff and Hotchner. Blacklaws thought of congratulating the women, but wondered if they might think that was sexist.

So he just told Hotchner on speaker phone that he could be proud of his agents' shooting.

Hotchner laughed and said, "Well, it wouldn't have done to Embarrass the Bureau. Seriously, Ashley, JJ, good shooting! Have a nice lunch and call me when you've eaten. We're still looking at phone records here, but I think we're seeing a useful pattern of calls between Bamka and Mason. Not surprisingly, most of the missing girls' calls were to other girls, school phones, or to families and boys. Nothing suspicious stands out."

And on that note, Blacklaws and the women boarded Peter's Toyota and headed back to Elk Pass.

"I can't wait to get a good steak in me," avowed the former South African winemaker turned sheriff's deputy. "I worked up an appetite this morning."

"This steak will be real beef, right?" queried Jareau.

Blacklaws was baffled. "Sure, but they have fresh salmon from the coast if you'd rather, or chicken and whatnot."

"Steak is okay," agreed the agent. "I just want to be sure that I'm eating a cow, and not a bruin."

They smiled at that, and Blacklaws wondered if he should select a different restaurant than the one with bear rugs on the walls.


	35. Chapter 35

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 35

As it turned out, they did use the same restaurant, Jareau assuring the other two that she could handle the bear rugs and elk heads on the walls. "I think I got over some of my bear phobia when I shot that one this morning," she explained. "I'm probably not going to become a hunter, but I dealt with this man-eater and I feel pretty good about it. And the restaurant does have really good food and a nice rustic touch. And it's where you two met, so maybe you're sentimental about it."

After eating, they drove over to the sheriff's office to let the women reunite with their team. They caught Hotchner, Reid, Morgan, and Rossi leaving for the day. Hotchner explained that they had gotten a list of the calls from all of Bamka's telephones and saw that he frequently called Terry Mason, a realtor. The calls had increased just before each girl had disappeared. The phone company was trying to recover the actual calls, so that the agents could employ their warrant to listen to them. These calls, if found, would probably establish whether these two men were the kidnappers. If so, the case was on the verge of being solved. But they'd still have to discover the whereabouts of the young women and rescue them. And of course, the agents who had been in town for the call records search had to hear all about the bear incident and about Blacklaws and Seaver seeing a real Bigfoot. So they stood in a casual group, listening to the bear adventure.

As they talked, Mike Bamka left a pharmacy on the corner of the street across from the sheriff's station. Unobserved by the agents, he went to his white van and got in. Before starting the engine, he glanced across the street and saw the figures on the courthouse lawn. He started a bit as he recognized one man and a blonde woman. Pretty sure that he knew them, he got in the back of the van and produced a Nikon Monarch 10X42 binocular and focused it on the tall bearded man and the attractive blonde standing by him.

Sure enough, they were the couple with whom he had talked in his store! And moreover, he saw a badge clipped to Rossi's belt. When the woman turned, gesturing as she told some story, he saw the same sort of badge on her belt. She wasn't wearing a jacket and her pistol showed on her right hip. Steadying his elbows on the car dash, Bamka was able to make out the shape of the badge enough to see that it was a wider shield, not the star of the local sheriff's force. He strongly suspected that these people were FBI, and confirmed that by swinging the binocular toward their vehicles and seeing that the license plates read: US Government. And two of them had been in his store and lied about who they were. They were probably investigating him!

He started to warn Mason that they needed to leave town, and then decided to just leave a message to meet at the lodge where the girls were being held. If the FBI was looking into him, they were probably tapping his calls. They wouldn't have been in his store with that cockamamie tale about Rossi being a vacationing architect unless they suspected him of something. He needed to be careful what he told his partner on the phone, to avoid letting listeners know that he was calling a meeting where two kidnap victims were being held. But he could do that. They had code phrases for such things.

His heart pounding in his chest, Bamka put away the binocular and resumed his seat behind the steering wheel. Where had he gone wrong? Why the hell was the FBI looking at him?!

Still trying to calm himself, he left the parking lot, turning his head so that the gaggle of FBI agents wouldn't see his face. Maybe he and Mason should kill the girls tonight instead of in a few months, he rationalized. But he liked screwing them and feeling them up and seeing the horror and terrified submission in their faces.

And with that thought, he realized that he was having an erection, despite worrying about the FBI and what they might be doing in Elk Pass. He decided to whip Courtney with a stiff leather strap whether she was satisfactory or not. It'd let him vent his anger at the agents, and feel more in charge and like having the initiative for whatever came next. He'd kill her if he had to, but maybe he was overreacting. The girls were worth keeping unless the future looked really dire. Maybe his pal Mason would have a good idea and a better assessment of the situation. But Mason was growing really fond of that little blonde bitch, Melissa. That needed watching. Bamka knew that he had to prevent either girl from coming between him and his partner and their original intent. That would cause total ruin. Surely, Mason would see that...


	36. Chapter 36

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 36

The team had no idea that Bamka had seen them and realized that Rossi and Jareau had lied to him in his store. They gossiped a bit, bringing everyone up to date on their activities.

Then, Hotchner took Seaver aside and asked, "Ashley, do you know Kate Callahan well? She's in Andi Swann's unit, like you. Do you often work closely together? She has applied to my team and I told her to catch a commercial flight out to Seattle, and an agent from the field office there will drive her over to assist us here. That'll let us get acquainted and see how we work together. Do you have any issues with her?"

Seaver shrugged. "Hotch, I think she'd be ideal for you. By the way, I was going to talk to you, anyway. I want permission to apply for transfer to Seattle. I think I'd prefer that office to where I am now. Will you put in a good word for me with Andi? Bill Waters says they have an opening coming up and I can probably get it, with good recommendations, and he's going to speak to the SAC on my behalf."

Hotchner looked at her with wry amusement. "Does this transfer have anything to do with Deputy Blacklaws? Have you thought of how this move will impact your career, overall? What if you and Peter eventually break up? Will you still want to be out here on the west coast? Promotion may come sooner if you stay at Quantico."

She explained that the politics and stress of working at Quantico or at the Washington, D.C. headquarters was more than she wanted. She had rather have a more relaxed posting, even if advancement might be slower. "And I think my work in my specialty will get me noticed enough at the Bureau that I'll get ahead. Not many female agents do what I do, or as well. I can handle Seattle, even if Peter and I call it quits. An awful lot of human trafficking cases originate out here. I like the weather better here, too, and the great outdoors. So, what do you think? Will you help me, after we solve this present case? After all, I'm the sole FBI agent to have seen a real Bigfoot. That ought to give me some pull, right?" She smiled to show that she was joking.

But Hotchner grew solemn. "Be careful who you tell about that Bigfoot, Ashley. Most who hear that story will think you were drunk or saw a bear standing upright. Seriously, be very careful of saying much about that. Cops all over the country have reported these things and UFO's. Personally, I think they may have seen exactly what they claim, in some cases. But being associated with that sort of phenomenon usually gets them looked at as if they may have a screw loose. But, yes, I'll talk to Phillip Gaines, the SAC out here, and to Andi and help you get the transfer if you still want it when we leave after this case."

"Thanks, Hotch," she answered. "Uh, look: Peter invited me over tonight to help him make dinner at his place and to watch TV. Can I go, as long as we're wherever you want us to meet you tomorrow?"

He rolled his eyes a little, but agreed. "I trust that he plans to help you learn some important dry fly patterns to catch trout if you stay involved with him. Whatever. Just meet us at eight in the morning at the IHOP. I'll see if Grant Ford can join us. Then, we need to get Callahan in here and start serious efforts to recover those girls. The longer we wait, the greater chance that we'll be too late to save them. I'm going to start shaking some suspects soon. I'll give you any news we get from Garcia or the phone company at breakfast."

She nodded, thanked him, and went to tell Peter Blacklaws the good news; they had the night to themselves. And she was pretty sure that they wouldn't spend too much of it discussing trout lures, flies or otherwise. She wondered how he'd make love in a bed, not confined to a car seat in the wilderness, with a man-eating bear and a Bigfoot to add inhibitions to his performance. Well, there was one way to find out. And Ashley found herself looking forward to researching that very question.

XXX

Mike Bamka drove by a grocer for food that he needed for home and to take to the cabin where some of it would feed him and Mason and the two young women who they were holding captive. But he called his pal first and gave the code word that meant for his partner in crime to avoid contact with him for awhile. They would meet at the cabin, but not visit one another in town, or exchange more than emergency calls. Bamka wanted to seem as normal as possible and not call attention to Mason, who in turn, might have to supervise the girls on his own, if Bamka decided that he was under serious surveillance.

He wondered very much just what Rossi and Jareau were really doing in his store. If agents showed up at Mason's realty office, they'd need to meet and decide how to kill the girls and move them, maybe right under the noses of the sheriff and the FBI. If it was too risky to approach the cabin, they could just let the captives starve. But Bamka wanted to use them again before they disposed of them and he looked forward to strangling them. If he was going to be deprived of their services, he might as well enjoy seeing them off. It might be more fun to bury them alive, hearing them scream as he shoveled dirt over them in their graves.

He wondered how long he and Mason would need to lie low until the FBI left and the local cops got back to normal activity levels. They had better avoid taking any more victims for a few months. It was probably best now to kill both girls, hide the bodies, and just pass time until the cops lost interest in him. But he was concerned at the way that Mason had acted toward Melissa lately, the way he watched her and talked about her. He might balk if told to kill her. If that happened, Bamka might have to kill Mason as well as the women.

That would be a real hassle! He hoped that the agents would soon leave, without showing any interest in Mason. But what the hell had attracted them to him? Where had he gone wrong? Or was he overreacting? Maybe the FBI team just wanted those things they'd bought and didn't want anyone to know they were in town. Maybe that was why the two agents had pretended to be married. Damn it, if he only _knew_ what they wanted in Elk Pass!


	37. Chapter 37

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 37

The night went well for Blacklaws and Seaver, who ate fresh salmon fillets and broccoli with brown rice for supper and then got to know one another better. In fact, they got to know one another so well that Ashley was soon screaming softly in orgasm, and this was repeated three times that evening before they slept, entwined happily in one another's arms. For others in the case, on both sides of the law, the situation was less blissful.

XXX

Reid asked Morgan if he'd talked with Garcia after they'd been scolded. "You nearly cost her her job," he reminded.

Morgan was irritated, but replied that he had called her and was about to do so again before he retired for the night. They talked perfunctorily, but Reid soon realized that Morgan wanted his space and the freedom to call Garcia without an audience and excused himself.

He wandered over to Jennifer Jareau's room where they laughed about Seaver's attraction to the local deputy. "He is a hot guy," Jareau noted. She was amused by Reid's embarrassment.

But she soon wanted to call her husband and son, and Reid was the odd man out once more, as Rossi and Hotchner were engrossed in their own private session, being longtime friends whose personalities were the most compatible among the male agents. They tolerated Reid politely, but he soon realized that he was interfering in their conversation and went to his room and watched a program on whether space aliens had built the Egyptian pyramids and much else in ancient civilizations. He decided that the program seemed plausible, but was probably incorrect. That channel's history programs tended to be deeply flawed.

XXX

Bamka called his partner and they used 'burner' phones to discuss the situation. They'd procured several of the phones in case they ever had reason to suspect that their communications were monitored. Bamka was uneasy, but Mason convinced him that the FBI agents were probably just in his store to buy supplies they might need.

"Hell, if you were a suspect, they'd have hauled you in to interrogate," explained Mason. "They're desperate to find those girls, and if they thought we were involved, they'd be all over us and checking my properties. Look, I'm going up there tonight and feed the girls and use them, Melissa, at least. May do her and then screw the Cassidy broad, too. They both flat turn me on. Man, we have two of the finest babes in the world there, and I don't think we should panic and dispose of them unless it looks more like we're definitely under surveillance. You want to come? You especially like Courtney, and she's a fine piece of tail. She's probably even hot for you to take her out of her cell and do her. She's been responding really well lately. We couldn't buy better pussy anywhere than what we've got, and I mean to enjoy them while we can. Come make Courtney dance for you. You'll feel better. We just have to be sure that we aren't being followed, but I doubt that we will be."

Bamka thought and recalled that he had a meeting that evening with a sales rep for some merchandise he needed. "I need to keep that appointment, but I want to go up there tomorrow and feed them again. I'll do Courtney then. When are you going to be there? It's best if we're both there when we let them out of their cages. Even with them being restrained, we need to be careful with them. If we take them for granted, they may seize any chance they see to cause trouble. "

Mason basically agreed, but added that he felt that both girls were discouraged and were compliant. "I think they'd do anything to stay alive and they're even enjoying the effect they have on us. That little slut Melissa is vain. Hell, she wants to be an actress. She gets off on knowing how much she appeals to us. She plays to the role some. I think she's even moving better when she walks and when she sees me looking at her. And Courtney isn't far behind. She even looked a little smug when she gave me that last blow job. She's learned some cool tongue tricks and she knows the way that affects me. Well, I'll go fuck them tonight, and you come up tomorrow. Just don't get careless when you're alone with them and don't let both out at once. If you tether a girl outside to get some sun, blindfold her. I don't want them recognizing the details of the place, although all they can see is basically forest. And be damned sure to wear your mask unless they're blindfolded. We're probably going to kill them eventually unless we really do get that ransom, but if some weird quirk happens and the cops find them first, they can't know our faces. And I think our being masked scares and intrigues them. "

"Okay, "agreed Bamka. "I'll see you tomorrow, Terry. Stay cool and unlax, dude. We've got a handle on this."

And they rang off and each man proceeded to his goals, with Mason stopping off at a grocer on his way to the hideout. He chuckled as he saw the collars and leashes in the pet department of the store, and he bought a pink set that he especially wanted to see Melissa wear. She was sure a better pet than any dog! He liked leading her on a leash, telling her to walk sexily and submissively. And she was getting damned good at that. He hoped that they wouldn't need to kill the women anytime soon. Holding them was even more fun than he'd hoped for when they took them.


	38. Chapter 38

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 38

Mason got his groceries and then thought of the FBI agents in town. He still felt that Bamka was being unnecessarily paranoid, but now that he thought about it, a chill ran down his spine. He ran by his home and loaded his bailout kit in his van, with enough survival supplies, ammunition, food, water, and money for him to cope for at least a couple of weeks in case he had to leave town suddenly and hide out until an initial search cooled off. He added some clothes suitable for both town wear and more rugged garb for the forest, in case he had to evade the law there. Feeling uneasy, he made a trip by an ATM for more cash, hoping that his precautions were unwarranted. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

He then drove up to the lodge where the girls were held, checking for any tails in his rearview mirror. Once well out of town, he cut off his lights and swerved suddenly into a small gravel road, where he would be concealed by trees. He waited there for ten full minutes, seeing no cars come rushing by, looking for him. Unless he was being tracked by a drone, he felt secure.

At the lodge, he fed both girls, who were actually glad to see him. They admitted that they were afraid that they'd been abandoned, left to starve while chained in their cells.

"Sorry, ladies," Mason apologized, if not too sincerely. "But my pal and I have other commitments besides you whores. Still, we like you, and you're both cheap dates. Don't have to blow money on dinner and a movie and just hope we might get laid, huh? You broads are sure things. Or, you'd better be, if you know what's good for you. Tell me that you're a sure thing, Courtney. Tell me that you beg to do whatever I want tonight. I mean it, dolly: tell me that now, and beg to please me."

Blushing furiously and trying to seem submissive instead of angry, Courtney Cassidy pleaded to be fed the rest of her meal, swearing that she would please Mason however he wished. "I'm a sure thing, sir. Melissa and I beg to be your playthings. We'll make it worth your while to keep us alive. You'll never have another pair of girls who will make you as glad to do them. Right, Melissa?

The other girl nodded vigorously. She looked terrified and swore that she'd be fully compliant with whatever Mason wanted of her.

After haranguing them for a few minutes more, Mason finished feeding them, rice with broccoli and canned tuna. The men had limited the captives' protein intake, to diminish their spirits and to cause their thinking to be slower and fuzzier than a proper diet would have allowed. Bamka had read somewhere that this would have an effect on captives and had been used by sophisticated kidnappers and by those trying to break the spirits of spies and others held by intelligence agencies. They had thought of making the girls eat pet food, to humiliate them and to make them think less of themselves. They planned to start that the next week, but hadn't done it yet. They weren't sure if it might harm the women. And if a girl tried hard to please, she got chocolate squares or fresh fruit.

Leaving Melissa in her cell, he took Courtney upstairs and locked one of her ankles to a ring in the floor with two feet of chain. He then unlocked her handcuffs, put on rock and roll music, and had her dance nude for him. She was sure to give a good show, afraid that he would punish her if unsatisfied.

After a few minutes, he locked her hands behind her again and had her kneel and give him oral service. She did exceptionally well, he thought, and she was rewarded with a whole chocolate bar and a soft drink.

"Pretty good, Baby," he conceded. "I'll take you to the shower after I do you and then I'll let you get to bed. I'll save Melissa until tomorrow. "

"I'm surprised that you brought me up here first," admitted Courtney. "I think you like her better. But I promise you, I'm going to try to outdo her whenever you want me. Just please don't hurt us. We're going to be the best thing you ever had, even in your hottest fantasies. But can I ask a question? Why don't you like me better? I know that I dance better than she does, and I have slightly bigger boobs and I think I'm probably prettier. What does she do that I don't? Tell me, and I'll make your wet dreams come true. I want to be the one left if you get rid of one of us. But she's sweet and I like her. Please keep both of us. You'll be glad that you did. Does the other man like me better than you do? He sort of seems to. But I want you to be totally pleased by me, too."

Mason considered telling her to shut up, but was flattered by the question and by her desire to please.

"You're doing okay, Baby," he conceded. "I think you're totally hot, and I know that you're trying. But something about Melissa, maybe her seeming especially submissive and seductive gets to me. And her looks just grab me slightly more than yours do. You're both beautiful. Something about her just rings my chimes more. She has kind of a baby-faced blonde look, a little innocent, but is really slutty and hot when she wants. I can get a bunch of money for each of you if we eventually sell you, but I hate to do that. You're both so much fun that we want to hang onto you longer than we meant to. Keep doing your best, and I may take one of you with me as my slave when I leave Elk Pass. My partner thinks we ought to kill you and keep a low profile, or ransom you after the FBI leaves town. We know that collecting that ransom money is going to be risky. The cops will be watching for us to pick it up, and the bank may plant a paint bomb in it to stain the money and us when the bag is opened. But I'll promise you this, Courtney, and you can tell Melissa, too. If you broads are really good slaves and try your best to be entertaining, I'll think of some way to release you alive in a year or two, money or not. I may take Melissa with me if I leave the country, if I think I can control her and keep her as my slave. She'll be really well trained by then, and I think she may grow to depend on me, even to love me. We'll see. You can tell her. I plan to tomorrow, anyway. But keep this between us. My pal is going to be reluctant to let you go. I may have to be harsh with him. He's mean to the core, I think, and if he thinks either of you recognize us, you're probably dead. So, be glad we wear these masks when you aren't blindfolded, okay? Now, let me blindfold you and help you over to kneel on the bed there. I'm going to do you doggy style, then you can shower and I'll put you away for the night. I may prefer Melissa a little, but I definitely like doing you, too, honey. Both of you are seriously hot babes. I was just more in the mood for you tonight, partly because you dance better. Not that Melissa doesn't move and shake better than 90% of the chicks in clubs do. I'll enjoy her tomorrow and for the remainder of my stay. I think my partner will relieve me for a couple of days then, so we can both attend to our regular lives. But Courtney, when I'm not here, you and Melissa had better do your best to make him want you and to please him. Your lives depend on that. Got the message?"

Courtney knelt in front of Mason and said, "Yes, Master. Just tell me exactly what you want of me tonight and correct me if I don't get it just right. I want you to be so totally satisfied with me that you'll really hate to be away from me. By the way, does this metal collar on my neck make me look hot? Melissa said that she feels totally slutty and like a slave in her collar. I even like the way we look in these collars in the mirror. It turns me on when you leash me with the ring on the collar and take me for walks. Can I go out later today, if I please you enough? "

Mason thought and decided to give the girls a treat. "Okay, Baby. If you do well enough, I'll leash you and Melissa and take you outside. But if we go beyond the back yard here, you'll wear blindfolds. I'll lead you carefully so that you don't trip, and then leash you with a chain on your collar to that ring in the yard so you can stay out an hour or so. Now, close your eyes. I'm going to blindfold you before I unchain that ankle and lead you over to the bed and take you on your knees. Squirm right, girl, and I'll pamper you. Just don't tell my pal that I'm soft on you. He thinks I'm too easy on you girls."

Courtney, still kneeling, nodded. "Yes, Master. It'll be our secret. But I'll tell Melissa, and you are going to feel like a sultan with the two hottest slave girls in history trying to satisfy you. We girls know what's best for us, and keeping you guys happy is our best hope. But we'll try especially hard to please you when the other guy is gone. Melissa and I will rack our blonde brains and come up with something to make you feel really happy with us. By the way, she admitted to me that you have some sort of hold on her. She looks forward to you doing her and telling her what to do. She said it just feels sort of natural for her to kneel before you and be told what you want from her. You won't find many girls who'll get turned on that way. I've even seen her looking in the mirror and playing with her collar and practicing her kneels. No way do you want your pal to hurt her. She's becoming just what you want, I think, and I won't be far behind. "

Mason ruffled her hair and told her not to worry, as long as the girls were submissive and obedient, especially if they seemed eager to serve. "I'll take care of you," he promised. "I'll try not to let the other guy be alone with you too much if I sense he's getting antsy. Now, let me blindfold you and take you to the bed and you can show me just how well you can squirm to make my night."

In time, she was allowed to wash before being handcuffed again and taken to her cell for the night. Mason uncuffed her there and locked her hands in front after chaining her ankles to the floor ring. He caressed her, and slapped her cheerfully on the butt before locking the door.

He noticed that Melissa had come forward and was looking at him from the front of her cell. He stared at her and she blushed and knelt, casting her eyes down and then glancing up quickly at him.

"Are you going to use me tonight, Master?" she asked. "I bet I can earn a piece or two of chocolate if you let me try. I'll make it worth your while if you want me." She colored pink all over as she spoke, but her eyes were bright, and Mason liked the way she licked her lips, hoping that he might desire her. It filled him with a suffusion of lust, but he was tired and told her that she'd have to wait until the next day.

"But I brought you this on account, Baby," he teased, and handed her a chocolate. "You can earn that and more tomorrow. I'll miss you tonight, but you're going to get a workout in a few hours. "

He handed each girl a fresh bottle of water through the fencing and paused at the base of the stairs. He looked back at Melissa and said, "You look really hot in that collar, and naked otherwise, Melissa, except for those cute gold earrings. Count on me appreciating you at length tomorrow, doll. "

She blushed and replied, "You're so going to be satisfied with me, Master! If I do well, will you leash me and take me for a walk? I really want to get some sun. Oh: thanks for the candy. I'll think of some way to make you glad that you gave it to me."

He nodded, waved goodbye, and ascended the stairs and locked the door, leaving just one ceiling light on to let them see as they needed, but in reduced light.

As soon as they heard the door lock, Melissa hurried over to the fence separating the girls and asked Courtney, "So, how did it go? And did he mention me? Does he like me?"

Courtney smiled and told her what had happened, glad of the other girl's companionship and a little amused at her hoping that Mason had asked about her. Courtney wondered if Melissa might bear watching, though. What if she really was falling for her tall captor?

She looked at the ringed stainless steel collar on Melissa's neck and hoped that she wouldn't be drawn to either man as Melissa seemingly was. She needed to stay focused on ways to free herself. Courtney didn't really believe that the men would release them alive, although she felt they could buy time by submitting to the men's' desires.

She began filling in Melissa on what had happened while she was upstairs, and realized with a shock that she was fingering her own collar and looking at herself in the big mirror just outside the cells. It looked good on her and she felt sexy and owned and a little like she was where she belonged. That scared her and she determined not to lose sense of who she really was. But what if she was a natural female slave, having been shown that side of herself? She shuddered, causing Melissa to ask if she was cold.

Upstairs, Mason checked the locks on all doors and settled into his bed for the night. He was troubled by the presence of the FBI and the other cops and he was troubled by the way he was afraid that Bamka might be thinking. He was pretty sure that they could brass this out if Bamka didn't panic, and then he found himself resolving to protect Melissa, whatever happened. The little bitch was getting to him, but only because he sensed that she was actually becoming fond of him and wanted to impress him. Something about the way she had sunk to her knees before him tonight and the shine in her eyes as she looked at him had seemed so genuine. He decided to have lots of fun with her and to take her for a nice long walk and talk to her more. If she was faking, he'd know, he thought. But he was almost certain that the young blonde was coming around.

With luck, she would soon call him Master because she accepted him in that role, and not just to avoid being punished. And she had been really grateful to get that chocolate…He almost got up and went after Melissa, but was tired and contented himself by masturbating as he thought of what he'd do to her in a few hours.

Finally, he slept, glad that he'd come here tonight.

But he'd have been less secure had he known what Hotchner was going to announce to his team at breakfast later that morning. A judge in Seattle had finally issued a warrant based on the evidence of the distinctive lingerie, and Mason's life was about to be put in jeopardy as a new phase of the investigation began.


	39. Chapter 39

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 39

At breakfast at the IHOP the next morning, Hotchner and Ford seemed energized. Clearly, something had happened. Hotchner introduced SAC Phillip Gaines from the Seattle office, and said that Gaines had brought a SWAT team and additional agents to search for the missing girls. He had also brought a Federal warrant from Judge Frost in Seattle, who had granted the search of any properties owned by either Michael Bamka or Terry Mason.

"The judge granted the warrant after I had Garcia confirm how many of those exclusive bras have been sold in Washington, and how many specifically in Elk Pass," he explained. "First, we told the judge that the bra is a model readily identifiable by two lingerie shop owners and that it's sold in Washington by very few shops. Garcia also checked with the importer for any Internet sales of that model. There were 17 such bras sold in Washington, all in Seattle, Tacoma, or Spokane. Only one sale is recorded in Elk Pass, and it was charged on Bamka's credit card. Because he was in close contact with Terry Mason and we have now recovered and listened to several of their phone conversations around the time of the kidnappings and the other murders, we believe that these two men are involved in the abductions and the murders. We plan to arrest them on suspicion and try to sweat them into confessing and telling where the girls are and if they're still alive. SAC Gaines and the Director are taking a personal interest in this case, and they agree that some action needs to be taken now. The Bureau is being made to look ineffectual and every hour that passes, those girls are in greater danger."

"Okay," said Reid," but what if they aren't the only men involved? If we arrest them, maybe that'll signal any accomplices to get rid of the girls and any evidence."

Ford nodded. "Aaron, Phil, and I discussed that. But the calls between these men don't seem to have encompassed others, and they'd probably keep something like this as limited to themselves as possible. Trustworthy help is hard to find for an endeavor like that. We think – or damned well hope- that one of both of them will crack under interrogation and give up the plot. We'll tell them, of course, that the first one to roll over on the other will get any breaks the US Attorney or the local DA are willing to make. The other guy takes the full force of the indictment."

Gaines rose and continued. "Today, we'll split into four task forces and begin raiding all buildings owned by either Mason or by Bamka. Chances are, one of the more remote properties is where the victims are. We'll have an FBI copter up and one from Washington State Patrol, looking for remote cabins that we may not have listed on Garcia's and other lists of their holdings. The keywords here, people, are speed and shock. We want these guys in jail by noon and our interrogators at work on them."

"They seem pretty smart," offered Blacklaws. "What if they do the obvious and just demand lawyers and tell us nothing? If they can't reach the women to feed and water them, they might die before we find them, and the suspects won't have revealed a thing."

Philip Gaines regarded the deputy with a thoughful gaze. "Blacklaws, I know that you have a good rep and some of you others are probably thinking the same. But we feel that this tactic is the best option at this time. We've decided on this course of action. We expect that all agents and sheriff's personnel will comply and support this effort. Now, one other thing: because it's likely that the women are without clothing, Agents Jareau and Seaver will visit the mothers of both girls today and obtain some garments for them. Seaver will be with one strike team, and Jareau with another. Each female agent will have clothing for both girls. That way, whichever team finds them, the right clothes will be available. Seaver, you continue to work with Blacklaws. I understand that you two team well together. Jareau, you go with Waters and Reid. Each team will also have three deputies or special agents as additional personnel. Each team will take its own SUV, two if needed. We brought in additional vehicles last night. Whoever first finds a victim or both if they're together, call in additional support, including a medical team.

"We don't know of any special medications that either girl is on, but they've been abused emotionally, and probably, physically. I want paramedics to examine each on discovery. You'll all have water and emergency rations to sustain you in the field today, and to offer food to the victims if they're hungry when found.

"Finish breakfast and then report to your team leaders and meet your additional support personnel and stand by for action. We're going to swarm the residences and businesses of both men at ten AM, and by then, the female agents should have that clothing with them and be prepared to go where needed. Each team will have designated marksmen as snipers and a bullhorn, but if you find them with any captors, trained hostage negotiators are ready to join you ASAP. The Director and I expect you agents to make the Bureau look good today, and I know that Sheriff Ford feels the same about his deputies. Questions?"

There were questions, all quickly fielded by one or another of the supervisors, and the teams formed and prepared to move out. Those assigned the more distant properties began driving slowly toward their goals, so as to be in place by the time the businesses and residences were raided. And the women agents called ahead to each kidnapped girl's mother and asked them to have clothing ready when they swung by to pick it up. The worst part was telling those mothers that there was no guarantee that their daughters would be found, although searches at specific sites would begin that day.

"I'm sorry that I can't be more specific," said Seaver to Mrs. Cassidy, "but we think we may be on their track, so we need to have the clothes handy, if needed. I'll see you in about half an hour. Please have some basic outfits ready. Time is of the essence once our raids begin."

XXX

In their SUV, Blacklaws asked whether anyone had told the Cassidys that his arch real estate rival, Mason, was a suspect. "If Vaughn Cassidy thinks that his business competitor is behind this, he might try to take the law into his own hands."

"I didn't tell Mrs. Cassidy who the suspects are," replied Seaver. "I thought of that very thing."

Blacklaws chuckled. "So, the stories about blondes being dumb are much exaggerated. I'm glad to learn that." He winked at her, and Ashley flushed and smiled.

"You'd better not piss me off, Peter, unless you plan to sleep alone tonight. Of course, blondes are smarter than most people think! Seriously, I just sent up a prayer that everything works well today. I'd hate to think that our raids might cost those girls their lives if we mess up."

"Cross our fingers, and hope for the best," agreed the tall deputy. "We have to believe that we're doing what's best, given our very limited options. I wish the villains had made traceable phone calls to the Cassidys and the other family."

"I wish I'd won the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes," retorted an agent from the Seattle office. "Mr. Gaines usually knows what he's doing. Let's all cross our fingers and do our parts when the whistle blows."

He had no more than spoken than Gaines's voice came over the radio:

"All units on the special detail execute coordinated action now. Repeat, now. Let's roll."

Blacklaws started the black SUV and they were in the race, for better or for worse.


	40. Chapter 40

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 40

As the FBI and Sheriff's cars raced toward his home, Michael Bamka loaded his escape kit into his second vehicle, a charcoal gray Nissan SUV. He liked the white van for transporting the girls or other victims, but the Pathfinder had four-wheel drive and was smaller, and might be better adapted to his immediate needs. If this situation blew wide open, he wanted to be in the Nissan. If the balloon went up, he'd kill the girls or take one along as a hostage. If the latter, he'd cover her with a blanket and hope that no one looked in and saw her. He still feared that Terry Mason was getting too sentimental about Melissa Winters, and he could sort of see why. She did seem to be bonding with him and even looked admiringly at him as she obeyed his instructions. Was she faking? About a fifty-fifty chance, he decided.

He was astounded as he drove out of his alley and saw several black SUV's with flashing emergency lights rush past two blocks away and surround his home. He had barely gotten past them, had thankfully turned the correct way to avoid them. He pulled off the road behind a neighbor's house three blocks away and used the Nikon binocular to see what they were up to. He saw some cops stride purposefully to his front door as others, wearing black tactical SWAT gear, ran to cover his rear door. They were after him!

He backed out into the street, paused to let additional sheriff's cars rush past as he lurked behind a bush, and then steered for the real estate agency to see if they were also after Mason. If so, the cause would be obvious, and he'd call Mason and sound their alarm code that meant to get the hell out of town and destroy what evidence they could as they left. This could only mean that the cops knew about the girls or the prior murder victims. This wouldn't be a matter of them being suspected of fishing without a license or getting a littering citation...

Sure enough, when he pulled up on a rise of ground that gave him a view of Mason Realty, the black SUV's and Sheriff's cars were there, cops going in and out, Mason's clerk and estate sales girls looking afraid as they were herded into a group on the lawn. No question, then. Somehow, word of their involvement in the kidnappings was out! How? Maybe the cops had deciphered some of their phone calls? Was there some other fatal flaw in their plans?

He pulled into a wooded glade and rang Mason's phone. When that worthy answered, Bamka stammered out what he'd seen and implored Mason to set explosive charges in the cabin and prepare to leave as soon as he, Bamka, arrived.

"If I'm not there in an hour, it means they got me," he cautioned. "Better kill the broads and burn them in the cabin. "

Mason asked some leading questions that satisfied him that Bamka wasn't merely overreacting to something less than what he described and agreed to shut down the operation.

"I already have my bail-out gear with me and food in the car," Mason related. "I'll set the charges and look for you. Be damned careful. If they get you, you'll go down heavy. We're both looking at life sentences for the girls, and if they know about the murders..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture," snapped Bamka. "I don't plan to be taken alive. I wouldn't fare well in prison, and I don't want to put up with some smirking cop sneering at me, let alone a prison guard. Or some FBI behavioral studies agent interviewing me to see why I did what I did. That's not the way I plan to become famous, if ever. Look, I've gotta hang up and drive before they cut off all the roads out of town. I'm going to use a back way until I'm clear of where they'll probably put roadblocks. You'd better not come back this way at all."

"I won't," promised Mason. "I'd better get busy here if I'm going to be ready to split when you arrive. Take care, buddy. Don't let them get you alive." He wanted his partner to resist arrest if cornered and get killed, not just for Bamka's sake, but to keep him from revealing anything the cops didn't already know about his own role in crime.

Mason thought for ten minutes, decided that more thinking wouldn't help, and checked to see if he needed to add anything to his getaway car.

He was using a blue van for that purpose, having stored it in the garage. He parked his usual white van beside it and began transferring items to the blue vehicle, which had California license plates stolen over a year before and which he hoped wouldn't have been reported as far away as Washington. If the cops were looking for him in a white van, being in a blue one might just let him evade them, especially the dreaded air patrols.

He stocked it with more food, water, and camping supplies and then went downstairs with a small bag of lingerie and some restraints. Bamka had told him to kill both girls and leave, and that made sense.

He looked coldly past Courtney Cassidy's fearful gaze and stared at Melissa until she turned pale. Melissa sank to her knees and stared back into Mason's hooded face.

"Master?" she asked. "Is anything wrong?"

"Yes, everything has changed, in a heartbeat, you little slut. Now, listen carefully. Do you want to live? If you do, do precisely as I tell you and don't stall or argue. Got that?"

When Melissa nodded vigorously, he told her to stand back and put her cuffed hands on her head as he opened the door of her cell. As he approached the terrified girl, Mason actually saw goose bumps rise on her skin. Probably not because the room was too cold, either, he reasoned.

"Now, listen, slave, I'm going to unlock your cuffs and give you some lingerie to put on. Then, I'll lock your hands behind you and we're going to take a ride. We won't be coming back here, but if you're a good girl and obey me, you can count on living for at least the foreseeable future. Turn around and hold your hands higher and I'll unlock those cuffs for now and undo your ankles. Then, put on the things I pass to you. Understand?"

She nodded and turned, wondering what on earth was happening.

"What about me?" asked Courtney. "Aren't I coming, too? The two of us can make you very happy to have both of us, whatever this is about."

"Courtney, I have some bad news for you," Mason said. "The good news is that I'm not going to burn this place down with you in it until my partner can come here and decide for himself if he wants to take you with him when we take off. You'd be a good hostage. Stress that to him. You need to convince him that you can be more than a sex doll to him. Your life probably depends on getting him to consider you worthwhile to risk being caught with. Look hot and desirable, but mention your other practical value, especially as he's going to get lonely over the next few weeks or months as we hide out. You were a really good screw, baby, and I hope that you convince my pal to keep you with him. Those dances of yours are just super, not to mention the rest. But you might mention your housekeeping and cooking skills when you plead for your life in about an hour. Make yourself seem indispensible."

"I can be indispensible to you," she pointed out, " and Melissa and I can do threesomes with you like you've only done in your fantasies, I bet. Let me come with you? Like Melissa? I don't mind sharing you. I'm afraid of your friend."

Mason chuckled. "Nice try, honey, but Melissa is all that I can handle for awhile. And if I think she's loyal to me later and in love, she's all that I can hope to smuggle out of the country to a place where the US doesn't have an extradition treaty. Sorry, Courtney. You're going to need to appeal to my pal. But if any broad can do that, you're well equipped. Start thinking of how to beg him for your life. Remember, to him, it'll all be about him, not about why he should be considerate of you. He' s that kind of guy. I was considering what to do if he wanted to kill both of you, and if he objects to my taking Melissa, I'll kill him and leave with her. I want her. In fact, I think I'll just leave with her and let you deal with him after I'm gone. But good luck. At least, you look super; you may just get him to spare you if you beg right and make him think you're worth having along."

Melissa finished donning her own sandals and a sexy black bra and panty set, and Mason cuffed her hands behind her and added a waist chain to which he locked the handcuffs. She was then hobbled on about a foot of chain and made to sit while Mason locked her door and prepared a bomb, placed near the center of the room, near a can of gasoline. He plugged in the bomb, it being activated by house current and a timer, no battery needed. He set the bomb for explosion in an hour and a half. If Bamka arrived in time, he'd find it and take what he wanted before plugging it in again. If the cops got him or he otherwise didn't show, the bomb would blow and set off the gas and other combustible items and incinerate the house and the helpless, chained Courtney Cassidy!

When all was ready, Mason unlocked the door to Melissa's cage for the final time and took her out, leading her on a leash attached to the ring on her metal slave girl's collar.

She whimpered and begged to have Courtney join them, but Mason was adamant.

"Sorry, girls, Melissa is all I'm taking. But you can both hope that my pal arrives in time and takes her. Now, come on, Melissa. We have other places to be. Just remember, if you mess around and impede me, your life isn't worth a plugged nickel."

"I'll behave," she promised. "Just tell me what you want. I'm going to make you totally crave me, I swear."

"You'd better hope that you do," he snarled. He applied a professional leather bondage gag and led her out on her leash and put her in the back of the blue van, locking the doors.

Mason started the van and said, "Keep quiet, Melissa. Here we go. Start thinking of how to entertain me tonight. Plan on amusing me and keeping me happy with you, and you can do okay. I'll tell you later what's happened and why we're bugging out. By the way, I have to take off this hood to drive, and you're going to see my face plenty in the days to come. That's just one of the risks that I chose to assume when I decided to save you and take you with me. But what the hell: if you're going to become my submissive, you may as well know what I look like." And he removed the mask and stuffed it into the glove compartment. His face was a little craggy with deep-set eyes, but he was rather handsome in a rugged way. Melissa wondered why he'd had to steal women to have them. He should have been able to get some the normal way. She saw that his hair was black, but she had been expecting him to be who she now saw that he was.

Mason stepped on the gas, eager to avoid police and his own partner, who might object to his taking Melissa away alive. But she was worth some risk. She was really a very pretty, obedient girl. And Mason was expecting some otherwise lonely weeks ahead. He wondered whether Bamka would arrive in time , or if the bomb would destroy the Cassidy girl and the home. Well, time would tell. If Bamka found her and got away, he'd call Mason later. Until then, it was best to assume the worst and just try to avoid attracting attention.


	41. Chapter 41

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 41

Bamka wove his way carefully through back streets and alleys until he found the remote road he wanted and headed for the cabin where his friend was even then packing to leave with Melissa Winters.

He had gone barely a mile when he saw a roadblock, with a Washington State Patrol car and a sheriff's unit blocking the road. He braked hard and spun the Pathfinder around to retreat. But a second sheriff's car darted into the road behind him and turned crosswise. Both deputies in it got out and one used a loudhailer (bullhorn) to order him to stop and remain where he was, out of the car. The deputy without the bullhorn lifted a rifle.

Bamka grabbed the cell phone from the console and rapidly called Mason. He got his answering machine. Speaking rapidly Bamka said, "Valhalla. Repeat, Valhalla. No drill. They've just trapped me. Get out while you can." The Valhalla code word also meant to kill both girls and to burn the cabin and to flee to wherever Mason meant to go in _extremis._

One of the cops spoke into his radio and before long, Bamka heard an incoming helicopter. There would also be more cars arriving. If he stayed here, he would be arrested and he'd be doomed as evidence of his crimes emerged. He thought briefly of shooting himself, and then decided to make a run for it.

He got back into the SUV and raced into the grass and dirt by the side of the road, intending to bypass the two cars blocking the road. The ground was too rough to try to drive cross-country. He'd have to bypass the cop cars and keep going as they maneuvered to get underway and chase him.

Alarmed, the police ahead ran to the side and one officer blared out a message to halt from his car's speaker. Then, the second, fearing that Bamka was about to ram them, raised his shotgun and put a 12 gauge slug through Bamka's windshield. A second slug hit his Nissan's grill and crashed into the engine. A third nearly struck Bamka as he closed on the cars.

He steered into the rear of one police unit, hitting it on the fender, spinning it aside. He swore as he raced past the damaged cop car, feeling that he might actually evade this ambush and go on to start a new life. If only that shot that hit his engine hadn't done too much damage...He reached the main road and floored the accelerator.

XXX

As he loaded Melissa into his vehicle and left, Mason got Bamka's phone call. He listened and made up his mind what he had to do. The first thing was to ditch this phone, which the cops would probably be able to trace to him once they arrested his partner. As for the rest...

He looked at Melissa's blindfolded face and decided what he needed to do about her and about the Cassidy girl. It was a pity, but circumstances sometimes force actions that would otherwise be avoided. He turned back toward the house. What was it that MacBeth or his wife had said about murdering King Duncan? If 'tis well 'twere done, 'tis well 'twere done quickly...Yes, he'd need to hurry, and then leave before some damned helicopter showed up. Once that happened, escape would be almost impossible. He left the chained, blindfolded, gagged Melissa in the blue van and ran into the house to deal with Courtney and the rest.


	42. Chapter 42

Murder in the Forest , Chapter 42

Mason ran into the house and down to the basement, where he reset the timer on the bomb. He looked at Courtney and realized from the expression on her face that he had forgotten to wear his mask.

"You!" she snarled. "My father's main business competitor! Is that why you took me and used me and Melissa like whores? Why, Mr. Mason? What did I or she ever do to you that you should treat us this way?"

He looked coldly at her. "Well, you've seen my face now, and I'm leaving you behind alive, slut. I just heard on the phone that my pal, whose identity I think you may have guessed, isn't going to be able to join us. The cops have him surrounded. I think he's going to make them kill him rather than go to jail or get the death penalty for the kidnappings and the other murders. You've probably guessed that we're also responsible for the murders made to look like Bigfoot did it.

"To answer you, no, I didn't take you to hurt your family, but I did first see you because you were your dad's daughter and you came to the real estate conventions and I saw you around town and knew who you were. I picked you for looks, though, and because I wanted to have you, not for business reasons. And when I learned that you were dancing at Harry's Boobalicious club, I knew that you could entertain us and teach Melissa to dance, too, in case she needed instruction. Look, I need to get out of here with Melissa before the cops find this place. Do you have any other questions?"

Courtney asked who his partner was. "Is it Mr. Bamka from the hardware store? Melissa and I discussed you two and I guessed you and we both think the other man is him."

Mason nodded. "Yes. I told Mike that you two would probably guess our identities and we could dispense with the hoods. But we'd need to kill you or sell you a long way from here, to someone who'd take you to Mexico or a worse country and see that you stayed there. Ideally, the Mexican I know who buys girls re-sells them, and I wanted you two to wind up as slave girls in an Arab harem in the Middle East. Mike and I could probably get from $75,000-$100,000 for each of you, maybe more. Our contact would probably double that or more when he sold you to some rich oil sheikh. Mike favored killing you, to be sure that you never talked. I favored keeping you for a year or two, then trying to sell you. I think that would have worked. As-is, I sort of fell for Melissa, and for you, too. But she's all I can handle now, and you're going to have to go! I'm resetting this clock to have the bomb explode in a half hour. They won't find you by then, and Bamka will probably be dead by then, too, unless they arrest him. If he lives, the cops will know for sure who I am, but they raided my office this morning, so they already know. There'll be reward posters for me all over the place, probably nationally. For a couple of years, I'll need to use disguises and hide out a lot. Melissa will be my enforced companion, but if she's submissive and obedient, she'll be okay. I'll probably turn her loose when I get ready to leave the country. Or, maybe the girl will fall for me, like in Stockholm Syndrome, where captives come to identify with their captors, given enough time and the tendencies of some people. It isn't out of the question that a girl so held may go for a strong man who looks out for her and gets her off in bed. I'm going to play that angle, and see if Melissa becomes mine. If I'm satisfied that she has, I'll try to keep her. Anyway, she'll make a good hostage, if need be. "

Courtney realized that her situation had become desperate. "Well, how about letting me out of here? The cops know who you are, anyway. Just turn me loose with my clothes. By the time anyone finds me or I walk to town, you'll be long gone. Why leave me here, with that on your conscience? I can't hurt you."

Mason chuckled, a mean sound. "Courtney, sweetie, you can testify to things that'd get me in even worse trouble than I'm in. What we did to you girls and the fact that I told you about the murders means that you have to die. I should just shoot you now. But I like the idea of you chained in that cell, watching this bomb, seeing the clock tick, knowing that your life is running out. Besides, I'll have Melissa away from here soon and I want to tell her that I didn't hurt you. When she eventually hears on the news that you died in the explosion and fire, I'll blame it on Bamka. Say that he must have set the bomb before the cops got him. She won't blame me for your death. Now, doll, I'm leaving. You'd better pray hard and reflect on your life while you can. In about 25 minutes, this place is going to burn. There's another bomb upstairs. Pretty soon, you'll go from being a beautiful girl to being a crispy critter! "

"What are you, a damned sociopath?! How can you do this to someone?" Courtney was both terrified and outraged.

Mason smiled faintly. " I probably am a sociopath. A shrink that my mother sent me to in school said so. But I have some feelings for others, if they mean something to me. Mostly, I just like the feeling I get when I kill someone. That's such a high! Well, farewell. We won't be seeing one another again, I'm afraid."

And he left.

Courtney sank down to her knees and wept.

XXX

Meanwhile, Bamka had realized that his radiator had been punctured by the shotgun slug, and when the level of the coolant had drained enough, his Pathfinder would stall out. And the cops he'd just evaded were back in their cars and after him, save for the vehicle that he'd wrecked as he hit it. And the cursed helicopter was overhead, the speaker blaring a warning to halt or be fired on. There wasn't really any realistic hope that he could avoid his fate. He was either going to prison for the rest of his life or being executed, or he was going to die here, today.

He chose the last option, and looked for a spot on the highway where he could swing the Nissan around to give him some cover as he shot at the cops with his assault rifle, which he now had on the passenger seat. He'd make the damned cops kill him, but if he could take some of them with him, he meant to do that.

Within a minute, he saw the perfect place to swerve off the road and bail out, rifle in hand. He braked hard and pulled off the road, putting a dense thicket of trees and brush behind his vehicle as he slid across the passenger seat and got out, aiming at the pursuing police cars as they pulled up to confront him.

The helicopter made another threatening announcement, but withdrew for a distance as the cops on the ground told the pilot to pull away, as the rotors were kicking up too much sand and dust for them to see what they needed to. If it aided Bamka for the copter to withdraw, so did it aid his pursuers.

The police got on the loudspeaker and began the expected warnings and offers of safe passage to jail if he surrendered. How he didn't need to die today, his chances would be much better in court, and blah, blah, blah.

One of the officers reached Hotchner by radio in a car fast approaching and asked for a negotiator.

Hotchner replied that he and Rossi were trained as negotiators and to try to keep the fugitive pinned there until they arrived in a few minutes.

"Does he have either girl with him?" asked the agent.

"Not as far as we can tell," the deputy at the scene answered. "Looks like it's just Bamka, alone. But he knows we want him. As soon as he saw our roadblock, he stopped and knew we were after him, and he ran. I think we can conclude that he's either our man for the kidnappings, or he has something else awfully bad that he can be charged with."

"We're coming," Hotchner snapped. "Keep him talking. We can't be more than five minutes from you."

"Will do," replied the senior deputy. Just seconds before Bamka aimed a shot through the open window of his patrol car, hit the deputy in the right side of his head, and blasted his brains out of his left ear…


	43. Chapter 43

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 43

As the deputy fell, his partner, a woman, screamed and bent to assist him before she realized that his head was ruined, no chance at all that he had survived. She narrowly missed being struck by two .308 bullets that Bamka aimed at her as she dropped her dead companion and scrabbled around the side of the patrol car, out of sight. She had a 9mm H-K submachine gun but was so traumatized that she curled into a fetal ball and sobbed, unable to control herself after seeing the horror of her dead friend. Bamka stood to run around the car, some 50 feet from him, and finish her off. He heard the sobbing and knew that she was distraught and unable to function well. He meant to take advantage of that, to kill her right under the noses of the hovering helicopter crew.

In the copter, the pilot started to edge closer, asking if either Reid or Kate Callahan could hit the man below if he swung the craft around to let them have a chance to fire out of the open door. Reid had an M-4 Colt 5.56mm carbine and Kate had another 9mm H-K, not really as powerful as was desirable to make a kill at that extended range. Reid's face was as white as a snowdrift in January as he gripped the carbine, hoping that his limited skill with firearms would suffice. He nodded at the pilot, and the craft banked and edged in closer to the drama below, the pilot hoping that Bamka wouldn't hit the sensitive rotor assembly or any other critical component of the whirlybird.

They were saved further speculation as a deputy in the other patrol car saw Bamka rise and dart forward. Realizing that he intended to kill the female officer, this man swung up his hunting rifle, a Ruger bolt-action .270, and found Bamka's back in the telescopic sight. He squeezed the trigger and sent a bullet between Bamka's shoulder blades.

Bamka coughed once, flung forward by the shock of the bullet hitting him mid-stride, and was dead by the time his body hit the ground. That bullet had been selected to kill not only deer, but elk. It was overkill for most humans under most police shooting conditions, the softpoint hunting load being more than powerful enough to do its job with alacrity.

The deputy cycled his rifle bolt and he and his partner, who was hefting a 12 gauge shotgun, approached Bamka, warning him to lie still. The warning was unneeded, they realized as they checked him. The exit wound from the 150 grain bullet had ravaged the heart and lungs so thoroughly that there was no need to even wonder if he survived.

One cop glanced over to the other patrol car and saw the female officer stand, her weapon now ready. She was gaining control of her nerves and saw Bamka's corpse and asked if he was dead. Told that he definitely was, she strode purposefully over and kicked the dead man, swearing a most unladylike oath. "This son of a bitch killed Frank," she exclaimed. "Half of his damned head is blown off!"

The man with the .270 applied the safety to his rifle, slung it on his back and pulled the woman away from the late kidnapper. "Cynthia, get hold of yourself. I know this is hard to take and I don't like to think who's going to have to tell his widow and kids, or even the sheriff. But that copter has two FBI agents aboard and they just saw you kick this corpse. I hope they'll cut us some slack on account of extreme grief and the stress that you were under from being shot at, but you gotta get hold of yourself. You want to go sit in my car? Your vehicle is a crime scene and you don't want to see Frank dead again, not like that. Go sit down and breathe deeply and try to clear your head."

She stared at him, but then nodded and he helped her to walk over to his car, where he opened the door and helped her to sit and try to control her anguish over the loss of her partner.

The other cop lifted his cell phone and replied to urgent radio calls from the helicopter's pilot.

"Yeah, I hear you, Mike. Look, the suspect is dead. Jack just nailed him with his hunting rifle. But the SOB killed Frank Wallace first, and it's bad. We need to get the sheriff and an ambulance down here and the medical examiner. I want paramedics to look at Deputy Hardin. She's taking this pretty heavily. Frank was right beside her when he got his head blown half off. And she was hit by shattered glass from her car. We'll do some first aid, but the medics can be more thorough. And she may need something for her nerves. You can swing off more and keep that rotor wash away from us, okay? We'll mark off the crime scene and start getting initial photos."

Callahan reached Hotchner and Rossi on her I- phone. "Hotch, Bamka is down and dead. A sheriff's deputy is also reported dead, and the men on the ground want the sheriff, urgently. Is he with you?"

Told that Ford was indeed in the FBI vehicle, Callahan told them where to come and that a surviving deputy was in strong distress from the loss of her partner and that only Bamka had been in the fleeing SUV. "We haven't seen either his pal Mason or either girl."

"Great," answered the BAU supervisor. "Kate, I'm glad that Bamka is no longer a factor, but if he's dead, that leaves us in a mess. We have no idea where the girls are. Was this a good shooting, really necessary?"

"Yes, Hotch. Spencer and I saw it all unfold from the air. If the deputy with the rifle hadn't killed Bamka, he was about to shoot the surviving deputy in the first patrol car, the one whose partner he'd just murdered. I don't see any other way for this to have gone down without a worse tragedy."

"Understood. Look, Sheriff Ford says we're about two miles out and will be there soon. Stay aloft and watch for anyone who could be Mason and oversee matters until we arrive. Don't land. The rotor wash will disturb evidence and stress the officers more. We'll see you shortly. Bye."

Reid and Callahan looked at one another and Reid said, "Thank God someone else did what had to be done. I wasn't real sure about hitting that creep from up here in a moving 'copter and I'm not the world's greatest shot to begin with. I think we got lucky today."

Callahan nodded. "Yes, all of us except for that poor deputy they said was named Frank. I'm glad that I don't have to do the notification to his family."

"Yes," agreed Reid. "But now we need to figure out what to tell the families of those girls. That's not a job I want."

The other agent nodded. "Some things about this job make it hard to deal with. I wonder who will get that task, talking to the Cassidy and the Winters relatives?"

Soon, they saw Hotchner and the sheriff arrive and Hotchner had the chopper veer off a safe distance and land and disgorge the two BAU personnel. He explained that they were eyewitnesses and would need to give statements. The chopper rose and moved off to scout for any vehicles that could be the other suspect and his victims.

And then, other police vehicles, sheriff's and Washington State Patrol and FBI arrived, along with news crews that had to be kept at bay.

As soon as things had begun to settle down, Hotchner and the sheriff agreed that Hotchner could take his people and retire, to lessen the crowding.

"Just go over to the station and have Reid and Callahan give the sergeant there their statements, and then you can figure out your next move."

"Okay, Grant, but who gets to notify the girls' families? We'll have to admit that we set the cat among the pigeons and that we have no idea where Mason and the women are."

Ford sighed. "Leave that to me. I'm the sheriff here. It's really my responsibility. Ask your SAC how he wants to handle the Bureau's aspect of this. We can talk and figure out a way to share the glory and the disappointment. There's some of both here today. Damn, I wish that we could have taken that dope alive and made him tell us what we need to know. But I think we can conclude that he was involved up to his ears. That's why he ran and then got into this shootout with my deputies."

Hotchner shook hands and moved to round up his agents. They were standing in a cluster, talking, save for Callahan. She was talking to the female deputy, now attended by paramedics, who were digging glass out of her face and shoulder. She nodded at Hotchner's signal and squeezed the deputy's uninjured shoulder. "Hang in there, Cynthia. You'll get through this. I've had to. It isn't easy, but you'll manage."

Cynthia gave her a wan smile as Callahan walked over to the other agents and they loaded into one of the Bureau SUV's and drove off to deal with report writing and deciding how best to deal with the media.

Morgan found a cooler with cold drinks and passed some around to those interested. But the sweetness of the carbonated drinks didn't quite wash away the bitter taste of what had happened today.

Seaver had monitored what was happening via her car radio as she and the rest of her team raided houses belonging to Mason Realty. She called Hotchner on her phone to avoid radio traffic, in case Mason had access to a police scanner.

"Hotch, we haven't found anything more interesting than a badger that ran out from under one house. We're going to hit one more place and then join you at the sheriff's office."

"Fine, Ashley," Hotchner replied. "Keep me posted. We'll all probably go to dinner after we finish at the sheriff's station. Take care, and good luck and good hunting."

"Will do," she answered and rang off. She looked at Blacklaws, who was driving, as he knew the way to the final home they were checking on this mission. He smiled faintly back and raised his hand with fingers crossed for luck.

XXX

In the cabin where she sat chained to the floor, Courtney Cassidy stared with terror tempered with numbness and a surreal fascination at the clock attached to the bomb a few yards from her cell in the basement where she was going to die in a few minutes. And then, she began to pray. It seemed a hopeless gesture, but was all the comfort she could seek in the final minutes of her young life.


	44. Chapter 44

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 44

Blacklaws commanded four vehicles of a SWAT team and other deputies that drove down the road to the cabin where Courtney was held. They slipped in quickly, and one SUV went behind the house and disgorged its personnel to block escape from the rear and one side of the house. The other covered the front and the other side, and Blacklaws's vehicle stopped just to the left of the front door. He and his team bailed out and rushed the door, weapons ready and a couple of men with a battering ram in case of need.

"Police with a warrant!" he shouted and demanded that anyone inside open the door and show their hands. After a few seconds, he nodded to the ram team and they smashed open the door with one swing of the heavy blunt pole. The door burst open, and deputies swarmed in, two going to the left of the door and two to the right, both also watching the doors leading back into the house.

Peter and Ashley stayed together with a third officer and they swept through the house as men from those who'd broken in the back door ran upstairs. The search was swift, but thorough.

They found the door to the cellar and used the battering ram on the lock, hoping that it wouldn't set off any booby traps. The door open, they heard Courtney scream, begging for help. "There's a bomb down here and one upstairs somewhere! Get down here and disarm it. I think you just have to unplug a cord. Hurry! I've only got a few minutes before it blows up and sets this house on fire!"

"Who are you?" demanded Blacklaws, although he was almost sure that he recognized the Cassidy girl's voice, from having talked with her several times at Harry's Boobalicious.

"I'm Courtney Cassidy! I was kidnapped and I'm chained in this damned cell. Get me loose, please, please!"

After asking if anyone else was down there, the team descended the stairs, guns sweeping the basement as their eyes confirmed what the blonde girl in the fenced-in cage had said.

Courtney directed them to the bomb and bucket of gasoline on the floor a few yards from her and the third team member, an Explosive Ordnance Demolition (EOD) specialist, looked over the bomb and decided that it was indeed simple and easy to disarm. He unplugged the extension cord leading to a wall socket and flipped off a switch on the triggering device and deactivated the clock. The smell of gasoline was heavy and they looked for a way to get Courtney free.

She recognized Blacklaws and called his name. "Will your handcuff key fit these?" She turned and lifted her manacled wrists as far as she could, the handcuffs being locked behind her to the chain at her waist. Her ankles were in standard police style leg irons, and Blacklaws agreed that he could probably release her with his key. "But we need to get the locks off the gate and get that can of gas out of here."

He sent a deputy upstairs with the gas bucket, the man being exceedingly careful not to spill any of the flammable liquid.

"Device!" yelled a deputy checking a second story room. And the EOD man ran to see if that bomb could be disarmed.

"I think there's a bolt cutter back in that corner," said Courtney, nodding at the right wall of the basement.

There was, and it was a fairly simple matter to cut a hole in the fence, the cutter not doing well on the tempered locks themselves. They heaved and made a wide hole that let them slip into the cell and cut the commercial chains securing the girl to the floor and help an unsteady Courtney Cassidy out of her prison. The leg irons unlocked, as did the handcuffs. The bolt cutter snipped the waist chain, which was secured by a Master lock like those on the gate, but smaller. An unsteady Courtney was helped upstairs, where she stood blinking in the harsh sunlight from the kitchen window and the open door.

"Get the hell out," shouted the EOD man. He was carrying another bucket of gasoline, headed for the back door. "The bomb upstairs is too complex to disarm in time. We have about four minutes to be out of here and away from the house. Is anyone else in here, Miss?" He looked expectantly at Courtney.

That frightened girl shook her head: no. "One of those bastards has my friend," she explained. "But they drove off a few minutes ago. He wants her as a hostage and a slave. He'll try to keep her for now, if he can. Please find her. Her name is Melissa Winters. Where do I need to run? Peter, get us out of here. That bomb is real. This isn't a TV show!"

Blacklaws nodded, slung his submachine gun, and took her hand and Ashley's and led them rapidly out the front door and they ran for the vehicles, Courtney still naked, save for her gold loop earrings. The deputies were torn between staring at her exposed beauty and running for their lives, but chose the latter option, starting the SUVs and backing quickly down the road.

Peter and Ashley and another agent stumbled into his Suburban and he turned the key and backed away fast from the house just as the bomb on the second floor exploded and a window and a part of the wall blew out.

"Well," said the EOD man, "That was a thrill! I reckon the explosive force there was about that of three hand grenades, maybe four."

He had barely spoken when there was another blast from the garage, followed in seconds by a second one, and the structure erupted in violent flames. This second blast was from the gas tank in the white van that Mason had left in the garage, a bomb rigged to explode beneath it, rupturing the tank and scattering glowing bits of incendiary material.

"Get the vehicles back down the road and pull off into that lay - by that we passed," ordered Blacklaws, using the radio on the dash of his car. "I'm calling in the fire department. Stay clear of that place. They may have other devices set to blow."

"Mr. Mason only mentioned one upstairs and the one on that chair opposite me in the basement," explained Courtney. "I didn't know about the one in the garage. Not that it mattered: he meant for me to have been blown to pieces and burned by the one where I was, before the garage one went off. Hey, Peter? Have you got any water? I'm dying of thirst."

"Do you two know one another?" asked the EOD man.

Courtney and Blacklaws looked sheepishly at one another. "I, uh, sort of know her from where she works," admitted the senior deputy. "We've talked a few times."

Ashley got a bottle of water from a Styrofoam chest, twisted off the cap and handed it to the girl. Courtney looked at her in surprise. She hadn't previously registered that Seaver was female, as she was in a flak vest, Kevlar helmet, and a raid jacket with "FBI" lettered on it. She also wore military style black trousers and boots.

"Hey, you're a girl!" exclaimed Courtney.

Seaver laughed. "Guilty as charged. We thought that you might want a woman along when we found you. And guess what? Your mom gave us some of your clothes. If Peter will hand us a towel and another bottle of water, we can go behind a tree and wash you off and be sure that you don't have any wounds or scrapes, and you can dress."

Courtney smiled directly at an agent watching her. "You think I need to dress? I already have my wide earrings on. The three-inch ones. That's more than I got to wear sometimes for the past week or more. Oh, hell, hold me; I'm going to cry!" And she clutched Ashley to her and wept openly as the men averted their eyes and felt guilty for having wanted to get a look at her before she was taken from their intimate view.

Seaver asked Blacklaws to bring a blanket and the water and towel, and she led a sobbing Courtney Cassidy to a stump off of the road and helped her to sit on a car cushion there and sat by her, letting Cassidy sob into her shoulder. Blacklaws draped the Army blanket around them until Courtney got control of herself and apologized for making a scene. "My parents and sister would be so ashamed if they saw me now," she gasped.

Seaver patted her shoulder. "Courtney, I've met your family, and I can say with full confidence that they're going to be so delighted to see you alive and safe that they won't care about how you looked when rescued. Not that the guys here have any objection to your looks. They're having trouble keeping their eyes in their sockets, including Peter here. " She gave that fellow an irritated look tempered with amusement.

Blacklaws asked if Courtney knew which vehicle Mason had taken. But she didn't, never having been allowed into the garage or having seen them in the driveway. So, they had no idea what to look for, the fire in the garage having ruined their hopes of examining the van inside. They'd have to wait until the blaze was out and cooled, and then, just maybe, the Crime Scene people could find some unburned paint and other clues to what was left there. They could then narrow it down by checking a list of all vehicles owned by both Bamka and his surviving partner.

Seaver got on her cell phone and called her boss. When he answered, she said, "Hi, Hotch. Say, we have some really good news and some bad news. The good news is that we have Courtney, but Mason is on the run with Melissa, in a vehicle that we don't have a description of."


	45. Chapter 45

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 45

The team took a shy, grateful Courtney Cassidy back to the sheriff's office, stopping on the way for Hotchner to buy cheeseburgers and fries for everyone. Courtney hadn't had breakfast, and the Kellogg cereal bar that Blacklaws had given her from his snack stash in the SUV hadn't satisfied her. Everyone else was also famished.

At the sheriff's station, Knowles greeted them and had a notary public from a nearby bank witness Courtney's basic statement when she had written it out and copies were made.

"With this statement in hand, I'm issuing an all-points bulletin for Mason," said Knowles. "The sheriff called and said that he's called Judge Howe and that he's agreed to authorize a warrant."

"I thought that you had a warrant?" said a puzzled Courtney. "How could you raid that place where I was without one?"

"That was a search warrant," explained Rossi. "What we need now is an arrest warrant, based on your testimony of what happened and your certain recognition of the perpetrators. Hotch, shall I call Seattle and have a separate Federal warrant issued? Kidnapping For Profit? They did make a ransom demand, for future delivery."

"Already taken care of, Agent," said Phillip Gaines, the SAC from Seattle. "I called a Federal judge as soon as I knew that you had Miss Cassidy. No fear, if we find the SOB, we have plenty of authority to take him into custody."

Courtney looked at him, trying to recall who he was. "Well," she said. "Please be careful. He still has Melissa, and I got to be pretty good friends with her. We knew one another as high school cheerleaders too, but not like we got to know one another for the past week or so. She's really sweet and funny and smart. And her family wants her back as much as mine hopefully wants me." She sniffled. "At least, I hope they do, even after the things I did to avoid punishment and to stay alive." She reached for a Kleenex on John Knowles's desk and cried as Seaver and Callahan comforted her.

She looked up at Blacklaws in a few moments, sniffled again and asked, "Peter, will you drive me home soon? I'm tired and I want a real bath and to see my family. How much more official stuff do we need to do here?"

Blacklaws looked at Knowles and at Hotchner and Gaines. All three men agreed that Courtney could leave at any time and that any further testimony could wait until she was feeling more stable and had rested.

Blacklaws asked if Seaver could join them, and Hotchner nodded, to Gaines's raised eyebrows. Gaines studied Seaver carefully, flicking his gaze to her and back to Blacklaws. He sensed that something more than official teamwork was involved. Hotchner decided to enlighten him after the couple had departed.

Courtney had already called her family from the station and they expected her as soon as possible. Now, she called again and said that she was on the way home. She was thrilled to hear her sister's voice, that young lady having raced first to the family telephone.

"What about the media?" asked Undersheriff Knowles. "I can post a patrol car in front of the Cassidy residence and it might be a good idea. By the way, Mr. Gaines, the sheriff called. He's on his way in and suggests that you gentlemen from the Bureau might join him at a press conference here in about an hour. We want to announce Courtney's rescue and warn the public about Mason. He's presumed armed and dangerous and desperate, as well as probably having a hostage. He'll have to buy gas and other things, so the public will see him. We'll issue a four state wide special alert and I'll call Customs here and in Canada, and both the RCMP and the Vancouver and Victoria city police forces. "

Courtney looked puzzled as she took the pack of Kleenex tissue that Kate Callahan gave her from her purse, and a compact with a small mirror. "What's the RCMP?"

"Means Royal Canadian Mounted Police," answered Gaines. "They'll spread the word to Canadian Customs, and in British Columbia, the Northwest Territories, the Yukon, and in Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba. I doubt if Mason can reach any provinces further east. If Mason crosses the border, they'll probably get him. And we'll alert the ferries that go up the coast to Alaska. He's on the run, but the odds are that we'll get him."

Courtney looked thoughtful. "Don't forget the southern border," she warned. "Those creeps told Melissa and me that they might sell us in Mexico, maybe for re-sale further south or in the Middle East. Yeah, I think he may head for Mexico instead of to Canada."

"What were they hoping to get for you and Melissa if they sold you to a Mexican?" asked Seaver as they left.

"They said maybe $100,000 each," Courtney replied. "And Mason will need money now, so I think he may have that in mind. But whatever he can get, Melissa is worth more. She's a terrific girl. I miss her."

Blacklaws nodded and opened the door to the SUV. Courtney started to sit beside him, but Seaver darted in and took that seat.

Courtney eyed them carefully and noted their embarrassed expressions. "Are you two like, together now?"

Blacklaws admitted that this was so, but said that if she really wanted to ride up front, the seat was wide enough for three.

"No," smiled the rescued beauty "Three is always a crowd in stuff like that. Well, congratulations, I guess. I should have known that a guy like Peter would already have a girlfriend."

They soon delivered her to her home, finding a protective sheriff's car with two deputies already there. They would defend the Cassidys from both Mason and the media.

To say that the Cassidy family reunion was joyful would be to court an accusation of gross understatement. Blacklaws accepted the thanks of the family, hoping that he could soon experience a similar scene at the Winters residence.


	46. Chapter 46

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 46

As the house exploded and the Cassidy girl was being rescued, Terry Mason hid on a side road on a hill above the setting. He used a binocular to observe the police removing Courtney from the house and swore bitterly. Now, the bitch would certainly tell the cops anything they wanted to know about her kidnapping and treatment and that he still held Melissa. Damn! But the good news was, he saw the garage erupt in flames and saw that the heat was too intense for anyone to open the door and see the white van burning within. The cops were more interested in staying away from any possible additional explosions and in comforting and clothing the girl. He noticed that they had a female cop to do that, judging from her walk and the way that she sat by Courtney as the men held back. Did Courtney know about his blue van? No, he decided. The wenches had never seen their cars. That had been a security measure. When the girls were allowed out of the cabin, they'd been blindfolded or the cars were out of sight in the garage or on the front side of the house. They'd been walked in the back yard or tethered there. So, he was safe in that respect.

And the van bore California license plates stolen some three years before, when he and Bamka had vacationed in San Francisco and Sacramento. If there was an alert still out for the stolen plates, it probably wouldn't extend to Washington state police files.

The plates were out of date, but he'd run off a decal that'd fool all but a really alert cop and stuck it in the corner of the plates, where some states provided such stickers to update existing plates. Did California do that? He didn't know and hoped that any cop who saw him wouldn't know, either. Unless he was stopped and the cop got really intrusive, he should be okay. It was sort of academic, anyway. If a cop looked in the van and saw Melissa, the game would be over! He made up his mind to kill any cop who wanted to see in the back of the van or who heard Melissa if she cried out from behind her gag. There was no other way, and once Courtney told investigators about the Bigfoot murders being his fault, killing a cop would hardly matter. He'd already be looking at as severe a sentence as the law allowed. Should he kill Melissa and hide her body? If Courtney told the cops that he had Melissa and they saw no girl in the van and saw his fake California driver's license, they might just let him pass. There'd be nothing to indicate that he was a wanted fugitive. But he thought more and decided to keep the girl. He wanted her, and she had gotten to be very skilled at slaking his lusts. If he was stopped, a close look at the license plate decal would probably fry him, anyway. So: if he was stopped, he'd let the cop approach, and then kill him. Nothing else was safe. Hopefully, he wouldn't encounter a police unit with more than one cop in it or run into a roadblock. And the sooner he got underway, the less chance that he'd get caught in one of those. They were probably giving orders right now to establish roadblocks!

Traffic cameras on freeways were supposedly now capable of detecting the license plates of wanted vehicles, and would trigger an alert to police. But only currently wanted vehicles and plates would be programmed into that system. Washington State Patrol had probably never been warned of the plates being stolen, and the time interval between the theft and now wouldn't leave many cops who'd remember an old alert, anyway. Newer officers would never have seen the original alert.

He knew that in many cases, police only issued alerts within their own and surrounding counties. Sometimes, even murder warrants were never sent beyond the surrounding counties or state borders.

Yes, if he could evade nearby roadblocks, he might well avoid capture. He only needed to get a few miles down the highway before he'd pull off onto a rural road and then into a gravel road that led to his hideout back in the woods. He'd hide there for awhile, until the cops decided that he'd escaped and stood down roadblocks and most hopes of catching him. The FBI would withdraw their agents and use them to look for him in cities, using high tech scanners at airports and train and bus stations to detect fugitives, an outgrowth of the interest in apprehending terrorists who might enter the USA. Did Seattle have such technology? It certainly might, at least at airports. But he had no intention of using public transportation, so that was a moot point. If he needed to ditch his present van, he'd just kill someone and steal a suitable vehicle.

Feeling somewhat better, he entered the van and told Melissa to be quiet and that he'd stop soon to let her pee and get a drink. "We're going to be at our new home before long and we'll spend a few weeks there," he revealed. "By the time we leave, the cops will have quit looking for us around here. They'll assume that I just drove as fast as possible to a big city."

And, so he started the van and took off, hoping to get beyond the range of any urgently stationed road blocks. In fact, he passed where the first block would be established by just three minutes before patrol cars arrived and laid out caltrop sheets to puncture tires, with a narrow lane between, to allow cars to pass if cleared by police. He never knew how close he'd come to being apprehended, but guessed correctly that it must have been a near thing.

He felt much safer after leaving the highway and driving down a gravel road and then into a dirt track that few knew about, leading to a remote place where he had stored supplies in a cave that was hard to detect. He was feeling pretty good when he parked the van and opened the rear doors to pull Melissa out, untie her feet, and remove her blindfold that she might walk to her new place of service. With any luck, no one would see his tracks where he pulled onto that dirt road. Few people ever came back here, far from anything. Unless some hunter stumbled onto them, he and his hostage would likely be alone for a long time to come. He smiled as he relaxed for the first time that day, and began thinking of how he'd have the blonde slave serve him that night. He felt an erection rising in his groin as he groped her and began leading her to his lair.


	47. Chapter 47

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 47

Mason tethered Melissa to a tree by a length of light chain and used a machete to cut a bush, with which he tried to obliterate the tire tracks where he'd entered the small dirt road. The result wasn't perfect, but it was the best that he could do, and given the remoteness of the location, he thought it would suffice. He concluded by tossing the bush at the end of the trail, making it look like there was no recent traffic there, as if the wind had blown the bush there.

He took Melissa back to the van and let her sit in the passenger seat. He removed her gag and tossed it in the back and let her drink from a bottle of water. She had been allowed to relieve herself on the way to the van and felt better, although she felt a little cramped from her wrists being locked behind her and fastened to the waist chain. She still wore the neck chain, now used as a leash.

"I'll leave the gag off if you promise not to raise your voice beyond a normal level," Mason offered. "But if you start raving at me or screaming, that gag goes back on and you get punished. Got it?"

She nodded. "Yes, master. I'll be good. I don't want to upset you. Is Courtney still alive?"

He hesitated and then said, "I think so. I saw cops leading her out of the house when I stopped on that hill. She's probably told them whatever they wanted to know, and I'm going to be wanted for the Bigfoot murders as well as for taking you girls. If I get caught, I'm doomed. I won't be taken alive if I can avoid it. But I think I can slip out of the country eventually. I'll keep you for now, and if you don't fuck up and upset me too much, you'll be with me for the foreseeable future. Think you can earn your keep?"

She shivered and said that she would make him very happy if that was what it took to stay alive.

"Anyway, you don't want to be on the run and hiding in places like this for months while you're all alone. I'll make your nights a lot more interesting than if you had to make do by jerking off. Look, are you still planning to sell me in Mexico? Can't you give my family a chance to buy me back when you're done with me?"

He stared at her, deep in thought and said, "Melissa, if I can think of a way to sell you to your parents and not get caught while getting the ransom, I may do that. As for the Mexican angle, I know a guy who will probably pay a good price for you, but if the family thing can be swung and you've kept me happy, I'll look into it. But I plan to be a good distance from here before I let you go, to whoever owns you next. But your folks will probably go to wherever I need to release you. I got a lot of money from my bank account this week, just in case anything happened. So, we have enough to live on for now without using credit cards. Those can be traced, and the cops will be watching for me to use one and let them locate me from it. Just hang loose, honey, and when I'm ready to ditch you, I'll get you the best deal I can. Okay?"

She nodded and asked if they were going to be living out of the van.

"No, we're about to walk a hundred yards or so and find a cave I stumbled onto several years ago. I've stocked it recently with supplies, just in case something like what happened occurred. Unless a bear or a cougar got in there and made a mess, it'll be good shelter and it's high enough that even a heavy rain won't let water flood it. And you have to be right there and lucky to see the opening. It's behind some trees and brush and is really hard to see. It's big enough to be comfy for both of us. But snug, if I get to trust you enough to share my bed. In the meantime, you'll be leashed to an iron ring in the wall. You'll have blankets and I'll walk you daily and let you get some sun. No one is likely to see us back here. I'll even set up a battery powered TV and we'll watch the news tonight. I bet they'll have lots on your pal Courtney and speculating about where we went. The cops will bluster and appeal for me to turn myself in and do their work for them. Hell, no, I won't turn myself in and free you! If I can escape and enjoy your company until the last minute, I will. Now, come on and I'll take you to the cave and chain you in there and bring in some stuff that we'll need."

And he took her chain and led her to the cave, which surprised her when she finally recognized it. It was indeed difficult to detect from outside.

Mason shined a powerful flashlight inside and ensured that no animals, snakes, or mice, etc. were present. Then, he put a blanket on the floor for her and locked the neck chain to an iron ring in the floor.

"I'll change this neck leash to one on your ankle later," he promised. "That'll give you more room to move around a little. We can stand up in here and have room to spare. Later tonight, I think I'll have you dance for me and maybe prance a little. I like the way you move when you do that. I bet the boys really enjoyed seeing you jog in your neighborhood. Now, sit still and think of how you can make me happy and I'll be back in a few minutes."

And with that, he turned on an electric lantern so that she could see and went out to the van.

Melissa put her head down and cried. She was terrified, but at least was alive for the near future and Courtney was free! She hoped that she would be liberated next and that it wouldn't take weeks or months for that to happen.


	48. Chapter 48

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 48

Back in town, the agents and senior sheriff's personnel conferred and agreed to search a few more hours, and then to adjourn for the night. Ford thought to send a patrol car to protect the Winters home, telling Melissa's family that there was a remote chance that the man who had her might try to bring her there and intimidate her family, demanding money and supplies.

Eventually, all but a few extra patrols went home, leaving Washington State Patrol units and game wardens covering the areas that extended beyond the sheriff's jurisdiction. The helicopter was called off, but the crew had it refueled and made ready in case anyone found anything that could be checked out from the air, with its sensors to detect body heat and a powerful searchlight.

Hotchner took his crew to eat at the same restaurant that they'd been patronizing, allowing Blacklaws to join them. He and Morgan sat as far apart as possible, but neither said anything discordant during the meal, and Hotchner was relieved. Morgan shot a few mean looks at the tall deputy, but Blacklaws refused to lock eyes with him and the tension passed.

Afterwards, the team went to the motel, with Ashley Seaver going to Blacklaws's home.

Having come in late, Kate Callahan was brought up to date on Ashley's new romance and what they knew about her handsome boyfriend. Kate was assigned to room with Jareau, inasmuch as it was obvious that Ashley wasn't likely to need that space any longer.

When Blacklaws and Seaver reached his place, they enjoyed ice cream and decaf coffee and discussed the case. But they couldn't think of anything that hadn't been discussed before. The information from the Cassidy girl had given them insight into Mason and his dead partner, but not any definite clues about their intentions in case they were discovered and had to flee. Bamka had had supplies in his Pathfinder that suggested that he was prepared to stay in the vehicle and perhaps remain for a time in a predetermined hiding place. Mason would be likely to join him there, and they must have supposed that it was remote enough to avoid discovery, even under a determined search. This was probably where Mason and the girl were now. On the other hand, Bamka might just have been headed for the cabin where Courtney had been rescued, with his supplies intended for the kitchen there. There might not be another hideout, in which case, Mason was probably headed for some city large enough for him to disappear there.

Asked how long the fugitives could last under such conditions, Blacklaws shrugged and said that it depended on where they were going and what they might have already stashed there. "But I suspect that within a week or two at most, food will grow short and they'll have to do something. Of course, if Mason is a skilled outdoorsman, he may be able to trap animals or get fish to supplement their canned goods or freeze-dried food. If he's near a creek or small river, water is no problem, although it'll have to be boiled or otherwise purified. I'm going to confer with a couple of game wardens I know to see if they may have good ideas about where they could be. Those fellows get out in the forest a lot looking for poachers, often well off the beaten paths. If anyone around here knows where to look, it'll be them.

"As for now, good heavens! Look at your blouse!"

Seaver was startled and looked to see if she'd spilled something down her front. The blouse was clean. "Why, what's the matter?" she demanded. "You told me earlier that you liked this blouse."

"Yes, but that was earlier in the day and we were out and about in public. Now, the damned thing is covering up those pretty shoulders and one of the finest pairs of boobs yet grown by any female human. It needs to come off, followed by the rest your raiment. Do you want me to take those clothes off, or can I just sit back and enjoy your stripping for me, as a form of deep dish entertainment?"

Ashley laughed. "I should have known. Men! Ever one-track minds! But you do manage to deliver some remarkable compliments. Do you really feel that I have exceptional ones or is that just sales talk to get me to let you see them?"

"Both. Outstanding ones, and I want to see them. And everything else. My bed here is a big improvement from 'doing' you in the SUV, what? Shall we bash off to bed and see what may happen there before we have to actually sleep? Dawn comes early, and we need to meet your team at eight tomorrow for breakfast and assignments. I want to meet those wardens and get their expertise. Maybe Aaron will let you and/or Reid or Callahan join me while we check with them, and then we'll take another SUV full of deputies and explore their suggestions. As for now, let's clear off the dishes and adjourn to bed. Want one of my admittedly splendid backrubs before we hopefully commence to enjoy one another's delights?"

Seaver agreed and soon found herself nude with Blacklaws's hands proving that his boast of giving splendid backrubs was more than just male confidence. In fact, he was very skilled and she soon felt relaxed and stimulated.

Before long, she was involved in intimate coupling with him and found that he was even more skilled a lover than she'd hoped, the bed and the safer, more relaxed setting being more conducive to what they were doing than had been the case in the vehicle where their first tryst had taken place.

In time, they slept, entwined. Ashley decided that she was indeed very fond of Blacklaws and felt secure and appreciated in his arms. She drowsed off, still held in those strong arms, enjoying the aroma of his cologne. This trip definitely had its perks, she decided, and smiled as she passed into sleep.

XXX

Back in the secluded cave, Mason and his captive beauty watched the evening news. It was about as he had expected: the Cassidy wench was alive and talking to the authorities. And he had predictably been declared a dangerous fugitive. Melissa's parents begged Mason, if he should hear the broadcast, to return their beloved daughter. And some FBI profiler named Hotchner had made a brief speech about how they knew that he, Mason, was in charge of the situation, and pleaded with him to do the right thing and free the girl, who was, in any case, an impediment to him as he fled. The other predictable comments were made, and then the regular talking heads came back onscreen and soon moved on to a story about a private plane crash in Oregon.

Mason shut off the television, explaining to Melissa that he wanted to conserve batteries. "Most programs today aren't worth watching, anyway." he declared.

After settling into the shelter for the night, he had freed her of the neck tether and instead locked the chain around her waist and to the floor ring. He'd then uncuffed her and let her exercise her arms for awhile before cuffing her hands in front. She still wore the black panties and the black pushup bra, both tastefully lace trimmed. Mason promised to get out more clothes tomorrow and assess what he had for her to wear. "But it'll all be brief lingerie unless a cold front blows in," he promised. "I enjoy looking at you, baby, and the joy I take in that has a lot to do with you still being alive. So remember to show me what you have and be happy that you're so hot."

Melissa shrugged." Master, thank you for the compliment, but if I wasn't so hot, would you have kidnapped me in the first place? I'd be home with my family if I hadn't caught your eye, right? So, being hot is kind of a mixed blessing, right?"

He laughed. "You make a good point, Melissa. But I do have you and you'd better be happy that I decided to take the risk of bringing you on my little survival quest. Maybe if we get away and write a book, some TV producer will make a reality series based on our adventures. Who would you like to play your role? Mine?"

They kicked that topic around as Mason lit a camp stove and cooked dinner, freeze-dried trail foods that Melissa admitted were pretty good.

"Tomorrow, we'll rely more on canned goods for awhile, because they're heavy to carry if we have to strike out on foot. And I plan to catch some fish in that river that runs a few hundred yards from here. It'll have a variety of trout and maybe salmon in it and they're good eating. And I have a crossbow and a sling, to kill small mammals quietly. I'm a good hunter. When we were boys back in Michigan, Mike Bamka and I used to kill rabbits and cats and whatnot for fun. We didn't take the meat. It was just to watch them suffer and feel the power. But now, we'll eat what I slay. It'll help to eke out our supplies. I want to spend at least two weeks here before we go anywhere. The cops will be alert for that long before they relax their guard, thinking that we're well out of the area."

By nine PM, the moment that she had been dreading came. Mason put on some rock music and made her dance to it as he lay back and enjoyed her efforts. Then, she had to strip gracefully and let him have her in the camp bed that he'd erected for her use. There was another for him, both with air mattresses. Melissa performed somewhat mechanically, if obediently, until Mason whacked her bottom with his hand and told her to move with more enthusiasm. She did, and when they were done, he let her wash with a wet towel and before they slept, he removed the waist chain and secured her with chain hobbles with a chain locked to the links between the ankle bracelets. That chain, in turn, was locked to the wall ring. She could thus turn as she slept and her wrists were left free. She was overjoyed at that freedom and thanked her captor.

He nodded and kissed her goodnight. "Just don't mess up, pretty doll, and you'll be fine here. All you have to do is be obedient, submissive, and entertaining. I think we'll even get to have some stimulating conversations as we get to know one another better. You belong to me now, and I take care of my property. Keep me happy, and you won't find your lot in life to be too horrible, considering. Got that?"

"Yes, Master," she replied. "And thanks for trying to get me off tonight instead of just using me for your satisfaction. You're actually a pretty good lover when you want to be. I could get used to being owned by you. A lot of women throughout history haven't had as good a deal as I do with you, right? You'll be glad that you kept me. I swear that. Just don't punish me unless I deserve it, please, and I'll go all out to keep you the happiest dude in the state, if not the country. Hey: what if something comes in the cave tonight? Can you block the entrance or something? I'm scared. There are bears and cougars and coyotes and stuff like that out there. What if something comes in and finds us both asleep?"

He looked thoughtfully at her and said," Good thinking, princess. I'll go cut a thick bush just big enough to block the entrance and set something behind it to warn us if it gets pushed aside."

And he did that, leaving them as secure as was possible.

"If we see any bear sign that suggests that one is hanging around, we'll sleep in the car for a couple of nights," he promised. "Feel better now?"

She nodded." Thank you, Master. And thanks again for keeping me. I know it makes things riskier for you. I won't disappoint you. Can I have a hug while you're up?"

She looked shyly at him and he grew tumescent again, thinking of her lying nude under a light blanket. He gave her the hug and she squeezed back. He wondered if she was coming around, maybe feeling some affection, or at least coming to rely on him as countless generations of bond women had done with their captors in centuries past. Maybe he could play her and see if she fit the Stockholm Syndrome effect of coming to identify with him, to form a couple instead of being just his prisoner. Maybe... He could dream, being ever careful. Melissa was clever and he'd need to watch for deception. He'd come to realize that she was much more intelligent than expected and had a wry wit when she wasn't too frightened to display it. Yes, he could have done far worse in selecting a girl to enslave. It was actually kind of nice to have her here and to hear the quiet rhythm of her breathing as she slipped into sleep. He felt better about what had happened. He was going to do his best to salvage what he could from the situation. And so far, Melissa looked like really good salvage.


	49. Chapter 49

Murder in the Forest , Chapter 49

For the next three days, Mason and Melissa went out only at night, unless they had to for sanitary reasons. Mason was very leery of search drones that he might not be able to hear, and of helicopters and fixed wing aircraft likely to be searching the area. The good aspect was that he had parked the van under trees that had such a heavy canopy that anything on the ground was likely to be obscured from the air. The helicopter had a thermal sensor, and he feared that. But it would pick up many signals of animals about the size of humans or larger, making it difficult or impossible for the pilot to discern humans from other animals.

In the cave, they arranged things to give them a comfortable home, considering. Mason was kind enough to give Melissa water when wanted and she even got a few sodas and some chocolate squares without having to "earn" them.

They watched TV periodically, mainly for newscasts to see what the police were releasing about them. Courtney Cassidy appeared on camera, with her parents and Melissa's, pleading for Melissa's llfe and urging Mason to surrender before he risked being killed by police. Melissa timidly said that Courtney looked good and that she was glad that she was all right.

"With Mr. Bamka dead and the cops all over your business and that place where you kept us, does it really matter much what Courtney can tell them?" she ventured, afraid of a harsh reply or a blow.

Mason looked thoughtfully at her and finally said, "No, probably not a lot. She'll give them details that I hate to have become known, but as you said, once they established that I was in on the kidnapping and probably involved in those murders, anything she says is just confirmation of what they'd basically know. Once Bamka killed that cop, they probably decided to claim that I'm an accessory because I was his partner. I checked, and Washington still has the death penalty on the books, and killing a cop is one of the capital offenses listed. They don't execute many people compared to some states, but they'll do it if the case seems to call for it, and this does. Now that they do have her testimony, I'm in for those murders, and multiple murders by any one killer is another capital offense. I have very little left to lose by doing my best to evade them. If I have to, I'll kill cops and anyone else who gets in my way. They know that you're my prisoner, so you won't get charged with anything. But your being here makes them look even more intensely for me than otherwise. You'd better entertain me enough to seem worthwhile."

She smiled shyly. "About an hour ago, you seemed pretty entertained. Was I satisfactory, Master? If there's anything you really like from a girl, tell me and I'll earn my keep. By the way, you have a few tee shirts for girls. When can I hope to wear one?

Mason walked over and pulled her hair playfully. "You, young lady, are getting to be quite a good slave girl. You're even cheerful a lot of the time now. You can wear a tee sometimes beginning tomorrow, if you do well when we go to the river to wash. I'll chain you to a tree and watch as you do the laundry. It'll be a lot like pioneer women and others did until they invented washing machines. Don't worry: we won't let laundry stack up until you have a lot to do in one load. I don't want us out there for any longer than needed. Heavier winter clothes, like my parka, won't get that dirty. I can get them cleaned under some other name after we get well out of Washington."

Melissa figited. "What happens to me when it gets cold? This is already early October. When it gets nasty and the wind blows and all I have is a tee shirt and panties, I'm not going to fare too well. Will I have to just stay in here and wrap up in blankets, or what?"

"Maybe, for awhile. I'll get you some jeans and a few other clothes after we get somewhere relatively safe. I can leave you tied in the van with your gag and blindfold on while I shop. I'll get a list of your sizes and hit some Wal-Mart or similar store where they probably won't be looking for me once we get some distance behind us. And I have a heater for the cave and I can chop and gather more firewood, too. There's an opening further back in this cave that'll let smoke out if I think it's safe to make a fire. I think we're secure here, but the smell of wood smoke travels for a good ways, and some stray hunter may smell it. Hunting season is right around the corner, so that's a potential threat. Hopefully, none of them will come back into this part of the forest. Now, stand up and take off your bra. I'm going to put on some music and you can show me how well you can wiggle. Do a good job and I'll give you a treat, like a walk in the sun. Would you like that, before it gets too dark?"

She smiled. "Yes, sir. I mean, Master. Which music can we choose from? I can move to some songs better than others. But I bet I can dance as well as Courtney did in that club. Were you ever in there, Harry's Boobalicious? She thought that you or Mr. Bamka might have seen her there and chosen her because of how good she looked and danced."

"Yeah," he conceded with a leer. "I did go there sometimes, even took male clients there to entertain them if we were talking a real estate deal or when I was networking to know men who could send me customers. Yeah, Bamka and I saw her maybe 20 times and she even performed a few lap dances for me. If she had only known that we were looking her over to decide if we wanted to take her…" He laughed, a smug sound.

"How did you decide on me?" asked his captive. She cast her eyes down and then looked frankly at him. "You said that you knew I was a good dancer when you first made me perform. How could you know?"

He shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter now. You may as well know. I know a guy who has kids at your junior college. He saw you, too, as a cheerleader and in the talent show in your senior year of high school. We saw you in that ice cream shop and were discussing you, the way that guys talk about a hot chick. He told me that he'd seen you dance and that you were a total turn-on. I went by the ice cream place later a few times and watched you as I ate at a table. I could see you go back and forth and behind the counter. You were a total babe, as sexy as they come. I even watched you flirt a few times with guys you knew and that convinced me that you're a man's chick, Melissa. The kind of girl who gets along well with men and basks in their attention... I told Bamka about you and we decided to grab both you and Courtney. I even bought a couple of CD's that I wanted to see you dance to, that I think suit your looks and personality. You and Courtney were hand-picked, baby. We didn't just grab the first two hot honeys we saw. I hope you realize that that's a compliment, even if one that you'd rather have forgone."

She blushed and nodded. "Thank you for putting it that way. I guess it is an honor, of sorts. Well, which song are you going to play? I guess I'm ready."

She unclipped her lacy white bra, a quarter-shelf model that left her breasts at least half exposed, and a style that she'd never worn until told to by this man. But it was sort of sexy and she enjoyed the effect that it had on him. She resolved to always have a bra or two like this from now on, if she survived this experience. She could wear one to give a boyfriend a treat. When she got to Hollywood, probably some girls there would wear them, so it might not be as exotic as it was here in Elk Pass. But a bra like this would get a guy's attention and maybe get him to do her favors, like auditioning her for a role or just taking her to eat at expensive restaurants. She wondered if she could get away with some of the lingerie that she had been provided, or if the cops would seize it all for evidence. Some of it was quite expensive, and she could stand to have it without needing to buy it on her own. Hell, she and Courtney deserved _something_ from this horrid adventure. But she thought that she'd probably reject the slim, rounded metal slave collar with its ring that she wore on her fair neck. That was a little too humiliating, although it was sort of a kick to wear, in a kinky way. But if she kept it, where would she wear it, to impress who? Maybe she'd wear one for a lover who was stimulated by such things. It did stir something inside her when she fingered it or saw herself in the mirror, often wearing only that collar and whatever bondage she was in at the moment. She felt very sexy and aroused at that image. She was pleased when she could delight Mason with her dances and even her walk. She was cultivating a sexy saunter to use when her legs were free, and she knew with certainty that he looked appreciatively at her as she preceded him on her leash. Probably liked to watch her butt move as she walked. What the hell, she reasoned. If she was supposed to be a sexy slave girl, she might as well play the part, especially if it got her captor to desire her. Melissa wanted him to keep her, even if the risk increased if searchers came near. And the way to curry his favor was through her body and her managing to bond with him more by flirting a little and making him glad to have her to talk to. If he liked her and wanted her, her chances of staying alive were vastly improved.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and looked inquiringly at her master, asking with her eyes if he wanted them off. When he nodded, Melissa was careful to sway her hips and legs slightly as she stripped. She tossed the white panties on the bed and stood, hands loosely at her sides, one knee bent, watching Mason watch her. She knew that she was blushing and that he enjoyed it.

Mason turned on the CD player and Melissa began to move to the music. She looked candidly, seductively, at Mason as she danced and seemed shy and very feminine and graceful as well as sultry. In truth, Melissa had decided to play this like she had a role as a hot girl in an R–rated movie. It'd be good practice for her intended career. Performing like this might get some producer to give her a chance to get in a movie. And it wouldn't hurt to charm Mason. She hated him on one hand, but he appealed to her vanity in a way, and she blushed to think that she and Courtney had been the two girls deemed most desirable by their kidnappers. A dangerous distinction, but one which she was proud of in a way. Melissa, like, many pretty girls, especially those with acting or modeling ambitions, did have a considerable ego. She had heard the saying: Vanity, thy name is Woman. She almost laughed as she conceded the truth of that.

Mason must have liked the dance, for she got some treats as well as getting taken out on her leash for an hour. The day was wonderful, the warm sun and the brightness a contrast to the cave. She breathed deeply and slowed her pace, to let Mason come alongside. He had been making her walk in front, leashed by three feet of light chain, her hands locked behind her. She was allowed her own sandals, so she wouldn't get anything in her feet. He looked suspiciously at her but she just smiled at him, looked shy, and colored, lowering her eyes. She stood next to him and their bodies touched. Melissa looked at Mason again, her eyes wide, her lips parted. He was impressed and fondled her as she moaned softly. She hadn't been allowed to dress after her dance and wore only earrings, collar, and sandals. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail. Mason liked the way it bounced if he ordered her to prance.

"When we get 'home', will you 'do' me?" she asked. "I'm kind of turned on. Thanks for taking me out. It was really nice of you. And I liked the way you looked at me when I danced. I guess you do find me pretty attractive. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but that turned me on."

He felt her intimately as she nuzzled his shoulder. "You're coming along nicely, Melissa," he said, playing with her hair. "I think we may be an ideal couple. The exhibitionist and the voyeur. " He laughed and she joined him in it.

"Just don't tell people how much of a slut I became if I get rescued," she begged. "But I'm starting to look forward to you showing me how much you like me. Yeah, that probably describes us. The girl who likes to be seen and show it off and the man who enjoys looking at and relishing her. So, take me back to the cave and tell me what you want in exchange for this great walk in the woods. I did enjoy it."

Mason let her walk alongside him, on the side opposite his pistol, just in case she might be faking this friendliness. Even with her hands cuffed, he wasn't going to get careless. He hadn't hobbled her ankles, lest she stumble and fall on the uneven ground. He'd better secure her to the iron ring in the cave by one ankle before he uncuffed her, if he did that soon. She looked awfully sexy in those bracelets, and he'd sensed a tingle of anticipation in her as she'd turned and offered her wrists when told to, before they'd gone out. Yes, this girl might be coming around to being what he hoped. Time would tell. But that reminded him that he might not have much time left in this life. At least, with Melissa, he was going to enjoy what time he had.

Then, they heard the helicopter hurrying toward them, its rotors beating a distinctive rattle in the sky. Mason made Melissa run ahead of him the last 50 yards to the cave and he hoped that they'd gotten into it before anyone had seen them from above. He made her kneel in a corner of the cave facing the wall and locked her ankles to the tether chain. Then, he put the big bush in place at the entrance. He thought they had gotten under cover in time, but if the copter circled, snooping, the pilot might see the van through the tree tops and heavy foliage. He hoped desperately that this wouldn't happen.


	50. Chapter 50

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 50

A week passed and Hotchner joined Phillip Gaines in a private room at the sheriff's office to take a conference call on speaker phone with Assistant Director Diefenbaker, who told Gaines to get back to his duties as SAC of the Seattle office. He had talked with Ashley Seaver's supervisor and she had permission to take two weeks of vacation, and then to transfer to the Seattle office. Gaines had talked with Bill Waters and agreed to accept Seaver to replace a retiring agent.

"Hotchner, I can't spare the BAU team much longer. Basic man hunting can be handled by the state police and by Sheriff Ford's men. We'll leave four agents from other offices there to show a Bureau presence, but this man Mason and his captive have probably left the area. I want your team on the plane back to Quantico next Monday. Take another day or two in Elk Pass, and then you can spend the weekend and I guess, Friday, in Seattle. Have fun. I know that you've been working hard. The Bureau is proud of you and your team, and yours, too, Phil. Any questions?"

There were none, and Diefenbaker asked them to send in the sheriff, to whom he wanted to speak for old times' sake as well as to coordinate future FBI efforts in the case.

The supervisors collected their teams and passed on Diefenbaker's comments and they made assignments for the final two days of their participation in the search. Ashley was delighted to learn that her request for transfer had been granted and thanked both Waters and Gaines.

And then they formed teams to cover specific areas of the search.

Blacklaws had contacted his friends in the game warden service, the fish and wildlife police. These were John Tanner and Tom Brown. They all met in Ford's office and discussed who would go where, looking at a topographic map as the wardens scanned for likely hiding places.

"He has to have access to water if he's still around here," noted Brown, the taller and older of the two wardens. "And he has to be able to drive his van off the road and hide it in the forest where the copter can't see it, but where he can get it back out on main roads when he's ready. He probably wants some place where any smoke from a campfire can't be seen, and watchers on fire towers make that hard in some places, because they're always in those towers with binoculars, looking for any smoke that could turn into a forest fire. So, we can probably eliminate most of the terrain near towers. Let's see what's left near a small river or a creek big enough to have fresh water flowing in a good amount. And he may want a stream big enough to carry fish. Those can stretch his rations. If he still has the girl, they'll go through any food he has in the van fairly soon, I'd think."

They adjourned to lunch at the usual restaurant, and all discussed where they thought they should search in the two days remaining. Blacklaws's big scientist friend joined them, Dr. van Reenan, and he discussed what he knew of the land and the animals that might affect Mason's choice of a hideout.

And then they made assignments, with Blacklaws, Seaver, Reid, Kate Callahan, and two deputies joining van Reenan to scout an area where they felt they might find the fugitive and the girl, if they were still nearby.

The team went by an outfitters store to buy a few items deemed essential, like knives, whistles, steel mirrors and compasses for those who didn't have them. The ones issued via the Seattle field office were needed for other agents, anyway. And they selected weapons, being sure to include rifles powerful enough for large animals or a long range shootout with Mason and submachine guns in case of closer encounters.

When all was ready, they boarded a Toyota SUV and a long black FBI Suburban and they were off. Reid made a bad joke about it being a good idea to have bought a compass, for he'd probably need one to find himself in those woods, let alone to locate anything else.

"It's not you having a compass that bothers me, Spencer," teased Callahan. "What I'm really afraid of is that you'll cut yourself with one of those knives."

That brought a laugh and Seaver asked if anyone wanted soft drinks or candy from the cooler, which was beside her on the back seat floorboard. And thus, the rescue team was off, hoping to achieve something more than a camping trip.

XXX

In the forest hideout, Mason cleaned his guns as a frightened Melissa Winters sat chained to her bed out of reach. She shivered and hoped that she'd somehow survive this nightmare. Mason gave her a long, cool, appreciative look and smiled slightly and she hoped that she could entertain him well enough to keep him happy until whatever was going to happen, happened. She sensed somehow that things were about to change, and that she would soon be in mortal danger. But oddly, she didn't feel especially strongly that Mason would be the cause of her new peril.

They heard a cougar scream in the distance and Mason told her not to worry. "Never mind that big cat," he quipped. "The only catting around you're going to be doing is in here, with me."

She smiled, but felt a sense of dread. Maybe one of them would be attacked by that cougar, a bear, or step on a rattlesnake. Melissa wished very much to be home in her parents' house and wondered if she'd ever again see her loved ones. She wondered what Courtney was doing that afternoon. It had to be better than this…


	51. Chapter 51

Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings, Chapter 51

The agents found the turnoff to the road used by Mason after trying two other roads and finding nothing. After finding the correct road, they passed the small dirt turn-off to range further into the forest. But their search yielded nothing and they decided to camp out for the night and then to pursue the final small dirt track on the morrow.

They got into the vehicles and found enough camping gear to let them make a good dinner and provide tents for shelter.

They posted guards after the fires were out, rotating that task. And in the morning, in varying states of emotion and fitness, they made breakfast. This restored the sprits of those who had not been enthusiastic about camping in woods known to harbor dangerous animals and perhaps, a known murderer, rapist, and kidnapper.

"Do you think that Mason saw or smelled our fire?" asked Reid.

"If he did, he probably cleared off," admitted Blacklaws. "But he may have mistaken us for ordinary campers or hunters doing a recce of potential hunting grounds before the elk and deer seasons open. Even so, unless he felt that we weren't likely to do any searching toward the highway, he'd have left. I hope to gosh that he's kept that girl alive."

Kate responded by saying, "Well, if he has her and she's alive, I dread to think of what she's going through, especially as his sex slave. Courtney made it pretty clear what they endured. "

Seaver leaped to Blacklaws's defense. "Kate, being a sex slave isn't what most girls are into, but her only option is to be be dead or lost in the forest, if he freed her. And I really doubt that he'd free her alive, don't you? I hope she's still alive, as a forced slut or not."

Callahan saw her point and agreed. "I wasn't saying otherwise, Ashley. Of course, I want for her to be alive. I was just thinking how bad she must feel about herself now if he has her. "

"Not to change the subject," said van Reenan, "but I've been looking at this topo map again and thinking that I was through here this summer, en route to the river below. I wanted to catch Redband Steelhead trout and that's the best place near here. To make a long story practically endless, I realized that a smaller river runs through the woods a half mile beyond us, toward the road. It's wide enough and deep enough to hold trout to a weight of at least several pounds and it'd provide water for Mason if he knows about it. He'd have to strain and boil water, maybe use activated charcoal filters on it. But he may be an experienced outdoorsman with the right supplies for that, and he can boil enough for most needs if he has a sound metal container. A pail or whatever. He probably hasn't got enough water in bottles for a stay of weeks, especially with the girl along. I think that if I was in his place, I'd look for shelter along that river trail and try to catch fish or snare small game to eke out my supplies. "

Blacklaws agreed. "This forest is just too extensive and too dense to check it all. Unless we find a trail that's been used, we probably won't find them in here. And our FBI colleagues need to be back in Seattle by this weekend. Except for Ashley, who'll be staying with me for a couple of weeks, during which her only duties will be to keep me happy, which she is physically and otherwise well equipped to do."

He paused for the knowing smirks and chuckles that greeted that remark, accompanied by Ashley's blush.

He added that they should finish breaking camp and drive slowly down the road, which had run out in the direction that they were proceeding. Unless they wanted to conduct a difficult, long term search on foot, the only choice was to reverse their direction and leave. But they could look carefully for any sign in the dirt road or in the land near the road, stopping a few times to probe at random into the trees. But their main hope was to check that tiny dirt path that they'd passed on their way in.

All agreed and they proceeded with that plan, which took the rest of the morning, leaving two of their number with the trucks as the others fanned out and searched.

Callahan and Reid almost wandered into an elk passing through and hastily got out of the way. They were impressed at the size of the bull. Soon, the rut would begin and bulls like this would fight to assemble, retain, and breed harems of cow elk. Bulls could already be truculent, so they were careful not to move until the big deer had moved on down the trail, probably en route to water at the small river that was their own next goal.

Seaver and Blackaws disturbed a fox that growled at them before reluctantly fleeing, looking back and snapping at them.

"Is that thing rabid?" asked the blonde agent. "Should we shoot it, even if a shot would alert Mason?"

Blacklaws shook his head. "No, it's probably just feeling territorial. It likely has a bed here or a kill nearby. It didn't move toward us and wasn't too friendly or foaming at the mouth. I don't see any indication of it being rabid. That's good, because if it was rabid, we'd need to shoot it and send the head to the state biology people for analysis. It'd be too dangerous to leave here alive. Rabies is a horrible, fatal disease. We don't know that Mason and Melissa are even in here, but the fox sure is, so we'd have to see saving people and other animals from the fox as our clear duty. Well, let's push on and see if we can find any tracks along the river banks."

And so they did, unaware of what they were about to discover in a most dramatic way…


	52. Chapter 52

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 52

As the agents walked carefully through the woods, trying to be as silent as possible, Mason ate a late breakfast, feeding Melissa by having her kneel beside him, hands cuffed behind her. She took bites from his hand delicately, a task that she had learned well during her captivity. Mason liked the way she looked then, and it impressed on the young blonde that her ability to eat was dependent on pleasing her master.

He was generous with her, even offering Mandarin orange slices from a can. He shared Spam slices and eggs that he'd heated on a camp stove and they finished the last of the bread. When they had finished, he watered her, noting that the supply of bottled water was shrinking. They needed to draw more water from the river, purify it, and put some in the used plastic bottles and in his two large Coleman jugs.

He made coffee and also shared that with her, having learned that unlike many girls of her age, Melissa really liked coffee. It was a treat that she got when he was especially pleased with her. And Melissa had seemed to try really hard to satisfy him an hour before, obviously seeking to please him, having learned his favorite things to do with a girl. She had even suggested a couple of things that she knew he'd like, instead of just submitting when he brought up such issues. She shyly admitted that she, too, was aroused by those deeds and he congratulated her and told her that if she continued this way, he would soon seek outer clothes for her. Her own had been burned in the house that he'd rigged with the gasoline and the bombs. Only her original lingerie had survived, being thrown in with the more sophisticated, expensive sets of bras and panties that he'd wanted her to wear as they fled and hid out in the coming months. And he'd kept her sandals, which she normally wore unless in bed. She'd have been unable to leave the cave without those, the forest having many small stones, sharp pine cones and other debris that would make travelling painful for a barefoot person.

In fact, if he left the cave alone, he took Melissa's sandals as well as securing her to the rings in the stone walls. Those were nearly the only times that he gagged her now. He had risked taking her out ungagged several times, with her promise not to speak above a low level of conversation and to be silent if he said to. She had sworn, and he found himself amazed that he took her word for it. So, he brought the heavy leather gag or one of the rubber ball gags with a strap in case of need, but had only once gagged her on the trail, when he'd heard someone or something in the near distance. He still didn't know if it had been people or maybe a group of cow elk. Certainly, something more than one man or a single deer or elk…

When they'd heard the rustling ahead, Melissa had turned to him and looked at the gag he took from his fanny pack. She blushed and opened her mouth, submitting as he gagged her. She cast her eyes down before looking up pleadingly at him, signaling that she meant to be obedient. He caressed her bottom, liking the way her flesh felt as his hand roved over it, that being easy because she wore a thong panty that left most of her backside bare. She surprised him by moving closer and leaning her head on his shoulder after glancing at him as if asking approval. He nodded and she leaned into him. They stood like that, Mason caressing her in the usual places as the noise moved off until the forest was again silent. They had gone ahead to get water, Melissa carrying a pail in her cuffed hands and Mason carrying two more pails. He tied her leash to his belt to let him use both hands.

Melissa had behaved perfectly and when he'd removed the gag back in the cave, she took a drink from the water bottle he offered and then asked if her behavior had been what he wanted. Told that she'd done well, she smiled slightly and then gave him a cautious look and asked if that meant that he wouldn't whip her because of the disturbance.

"No," a surprised Mason said. "Why would I blame you for sounds in the woods? You were quiet and you got your mouth open as soon as you saw the gag and you felt pretty good in my hands while we waited. I'm usually only going to punish you if you do something defiant or disobedient or otherwise wrong."

"Thanks," she answered. "I've dated a couple of guys who blamed me if anything upset them. You're strict with me but usually fair, considering that I'm your slave now. Master? There's something else. I got kind of turned on by being scared out there. Are you in the mood to 'do' me? You could leave the cuffs on and just have me kneel on the bed and, well, you know…. I know you like taking me that way. I must be a slut to even think of this, but I feel so aroused and I know you are. I could tell you got an erection while you fooled around with me while we waited. Anyway, if you want me now, I'm pretty hot to trot. Just so you know…"

He slipped off the black thong, led her by the hair to the bed and did as she'd asked. She must have read his mind, for he was about to do that very thing on his own. And he wasn't sure when they'd finished which of them had enjoyed the experience more. Melissa had even thanked him for taking her and she had hummed to herself and even sang a little later as she cleaned up after dinner. She had looked at him as he stood watching her and said, "Please keep me. Don't sell me. I'm going to be such a delight to you that you'd really miss me if I got sold."

Mason smiled and had her kneel in front of him and played with her hair and ears. "Keep doing like you have been and I probably will keep you. Now, lets' get washed off and get to bed. Tomorrow is our last day here. The supplies are getting low, and we need to move to another hideout. I have several places similar to this where I stashed things in case I had to leave town in a hurry. Bamka was getting harder to get along with and I didn't know what might happen. One thing that I thought might cause a problem between us was that I'd decided to keep you for my own use even if he objected. I like you, Melissa. Be a good slave and you'll be well looked after."

"You'd risk Mr. Bamka getting mad at you, just for my sake?" She was surprised and wondered just how much he'd come to care for her.

"Yeah," he said, a little gruffly. "But don't think that it gives you any control over me. I'm keeping you for my pleasure, not so you can twist me around your little finger. Most of you hot broads think you can manipulate men. Don't try that on me, or I will punish you. Got that?"

She flushed and said," Yes, master. I know my place. But I'm pleased that you find me satisfactory, pun maybe intended. " She gave him a sly, teasing look.

He pulled her to him, standing, and kissed her firmly on the mouth before his hands began to rove and he nibbled at her neck and ears as her breathing grew heavy and she sighed.

He turned her to face him squarely and slid his hands down to fondle her buttocks and said a little more tenderly, "Hell, girl, maybe I do care for you some. Just don't try to take that and run with it."

He thought about that now, the next morning, and gave Melissa a raspberry-filled chocolate square as they cleaned up the breakfast things.

"I need to go out to the truck and start the engine and let it run a little," he announced. He had done that several times during their stay, when he felt it was safe, to avoid letting the battery die.

"Can I come?" Melissa wanted to know. "I bet it's really nice out."

Mason thought. "Yeah, you've been good lately. And I could use the company, I guess. You're kind of fun to have along."

He found a length of cord like that found on Venetian blinds and told her to turn and hold her wrists behind her, the backs of the wrists together. He often tied her that way, which restricted her more than if he'd just had her cross her wrists before binding. He started to tie her, but thought of something and grinned.

Instead of binding her as he'd begun, he had her raise her folded arms behind her, the palms of her hands up, and tied her wrists that way, keeping the arms a little above her waist.

"Let me guess," said Melissa. You've decided to have me walk ahead of you and you want my hands out of the way so you have an unobstructed view of my butt as I walk?"

"You understand perfectly, my little minx," he replied and checked to be sure that he'd gotten the knots tight, the ropes snug on her wrists, although not so tight as to restrict circulation.

He took her panties and told her that he'd let her wear them later, but he wanted a nude view of her now.

Melissa blushed, but was flattered that he liked looking at her in the altogether. "I'm becoming so vain and so slutty," she thought and decided that this actually felt pretty good. She knew that she was blushing even more as she stood for him to attach her leash to the ring on her metal collar.

"Do you want me to swing my tail a little more than usual? I can wiggle as much as you like as long as I don't stumble or lose my balance. But I don't want to overdo it and become a parody of what you want." She looked into his eyes to see his attitude before dropping her gaze and blushing even more.

Mason ran an appreciative look down her body, followed by a hand that left her breaking out into goose bumps as she reacted to his attentions.

He kissed her and told her to decide how much effect she should put into her walk.

"You normally have about the right motion, anyway," he told her. "Just don't ham it up too much. Subtle and graceful beats overdoing it. I trust you to know what's just right. You move well, baby. It's going to be a real treat to watch you. I may have you dance later, a last time before we have to leave. You're so damned good at that! You should never have been slaving in that ice cream shop for hardly more than minimum wage if you can move like that. You should have joined Courtney in that Boobalicious club."

"Thanks," she acknowledged. "it's good to know that I impress you. But if my parents found me working there, I'd probably have gotten spanked harder than you've done it. Not that they've really spanked me for years, but you get the idea of what they'd think of me if I did that."

Mason laughed. "Well, if you _don't_ dance for me, you'll get spanked for that. A girl can't win, huh?"

And he led her out, with some eight feet of chain for her leash, so that she could walk just far enough ahead of him for him to enjoy watching her move. She guessed just what he wanted to see and swayed a little as she went. Mason decided that this was going to be a really good day. He had no idea that the cops were closing in on him. And he was approaching another menace, one that he would not have believed had anyone warned him of it. But it would have a profound effect on his life, indeed a fatal one.


	53. Chapter 53

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 53

On the way to the vehicle, which was parked some 250 yards from the cave, Melissa stumbled and almost fell. Having her hands bound as they were prevented her reaching out to balance herself, and she was frightened. Mason came forward to steady her, and she was surprised to see how quickly he could move. He was middle aged, but still in excellent shape and sharp of mind. He held her tenderly for a moment and then told her to walk closer to him. In fact, he was only a couple of feet behind now and told her to watch where she went.

"The last thing we need is for you to break an ankle. I'd probably have to shoot you like I would a horse with a broken leg." He laughed, but Melissa feared that he might do just that if she became a burden to him.

They were about a hundred yards from the recess where he'd hidden the car when they heard something moving off the trail, to the left. Melissa looked back to see that Mason had also heard and he walked up and whispered in her ear that he was going to tether her to a sapling growing off the path, so that she wouldn't be seen by anyone coming that way. He complained that he hadn't brought a gag for her, the one time that he really needed one. He warned her to behave, a stern look on his face.

She nodded and knelt as he wrapped the light lead chain around the small tree and secured it with a padlock.. He drew a Browning 9mm pistol and checked to see that the chamber was loaded. He started quietly forward to see what was making the rustling sound in the brush, and she said softly, "Be careful, Master."

He gave her a dirty look and she was afraid that he was going to slap her for even this soft sound. But he just patted her on the head and moved forward again.

He had gone several yards away and was swallowed up in the thick trees when she heard him shout in raw alarm, followed by two quick shots. A few seconds later, he ran back into sight, a large hairy apelike creature in hot pursuit, howling with rage. Mason turned to fire a third shot and then the animal was on him. It grabbed the arm with the gun and swung Mason off his feet and slammed him into the trunk of a tree. He screamed in pain and Melissa knew in her heart that that arm had been broken, probably also the shoulder. The beast then lifted the man and holding him by the ankles, effortlessly swung him hard into a larger tree. The snapping of bones was quite audible and Mason screamed harder, the scariest sound that Melissa had ever heard. A final such swing slammed the man's head into a trunk and from the nasty thudding sound she heard, Melissa knew that the skull had been crushed and that her captor was probably dead. And that his savage killer was within feet of her!

She shivered but tried to remain quiet, lest she be detected and also slain. But the animal, some eight feet tall, saw her! It walked over holding a hand to its ribs where she saw the red stain of a bleeding wound. Mason must have hit it at least once, but not fatally. She began sobbing, terrified as the huge animal stood over her, glaring and growling. She was certain that she would be dead in seconds, but the creature snarled and seemed to mumble something unintelligible. It was clearly angry, but regarded her with what she realized was curiosity.

She heard more rustling in the forest and a man shouted, "Police! What's going on up there?" The Bigfoot, for such it surely was, growled more loudly and made a roaring noise. It looked again at her and ran back into the shadows of the old growth timber.

It moved quickly and was gone in seconds. She heard another such creature call and she shook with terror. The first beast answered, and then came silence.

The noise in the other direction approached and Melissa saw a tall man in the uniform of the Elk Pass sheriff's department and a blonde woman in a blue jacket with "FBI" lettered on it and carrying a submachine gun run toward her, their eyes and their weapons sweeping the surrounding area.

Melissa leaned back against the sapling and screamed. The woman reached her and knelt to look at her face.

"Melissa Winters? FBI. You're safe now. Where is the man who took you and what was that horrible noise?"

Melissa murmured something incomprehensible, the sound of a woman going into shock, and collapsed. She was fortunate that the chain slid down the trunk with her as she passed out.

The last thing she heard was the man saying, "I think I see Mason, or what's left of him. We won't need to file any charges against him. He's already on his way to judgment in a higher court than we have in this life."


	54. Chapter 54

Murder in the Forest, Chapter 54

Seaver got on the radio and summoned the other search team and had those guarding the SUV's bring the vehicles to the tiny dirt road where Mason had turned off to access his hideout. One of those drivers would also notify Sheriff Ford, who could then advise Hotchner and SAC Gaines. The SUV's could then carefully follow the small road to where they now waited.

As she did this, Blacklaws tried to revive Melissa. He managed to wake her, sit her up, and gave her a drink. He sent Seaver to search Mason's body for the keys to the slave collar and to the lead chain. And he took out his Swiss Army knife and opened the corkscrew blade, a useful tool to loosen the knots holding Melissa's bonds. He had thought of using the smaller (pen) blade, but a slip might have cut the victim.

They stood Melissa up, leaning against Seaver, so that he could address the knots better and he soon had her free. That little corkscrew was useful for more than opening wine bottles!

They used a key to unlock the chain from the collar, but Seaver was baffled at how any key she found would fit the collar. Blacklaws recognized the tiny hole as requiring an Allen wrench and went back to the body and rummaged until he found that small wrench and removed the slave collar, saving the screw to close the collar. He wanted it for evidence.

Melissa was now breathing easily and asked for more water, studying the faces of her rescuers.

"How is Courtney?" she wanted to know. "We went through a lot together, and I know that she must be having nightmares. You have no idea what we had to do to please Mason and Bamka. I was scared to death all the time, and I know that Courtney was, too. Look, I was being held in a cave near here. I'll show you where. It's really hard to see if you don't know just where the entrance is. I don't have any clothes to speak of in there, but I can get panties and bra and there are a couple of tee shirts that I got to wear a few times. You're being really nice, but I'd rather get something on." She blushed scarlet.

"Here," said Seaver. She had been cleaning out the fanny pack on her waist, looking for something of use for this. She had a spare tee with FBI lettering on it, and she shook it out and offered it to Melissa.

The fit of the old shirt, which had shrunk through washings, was slightly tight, and Melissa was amused. She moved her shoulders back and said, "The shirt is great for showing off that I have nipples, huh? Look, Peter? Isn't that your name? You used to come in the ice cream shop where I work. We girls used to talk about you. Anyway, let me lean on you a little if I need to and let's get to that cave and get some panties on me before your friends arrive. I'm tired of putting on a skin show every day since I was kidnapped."

"You can lean on me, "said Seaver, thinking that Melissa might be a little mad at all men at that moment, but the young girl shook her head.

"No, thanks, lady. Officer? Agent? I know Peter and he's a nice dude. Courtney said how she likes him, too. He used to get by that club where she worked. I guess he's now had an eyeful of both her and me. But if some guy is going to ogle me, I'd a lot rather have it be him than most, and a danged sight rather it be him than Bamka and Mason! Okay, let's go. I really want to get something more on me right away."

Seaver was a little surprised that her offer was rejected and resentful that the girl was clearly impressed by her new boyfriend. She decided to have a word with Peter later, but saw him grinning at her before he took Melissa's arm. He looked a bit sheepish and Ashley realized that he was embarrassed, if no doubt pleased that the rescued girl liked him.

They soon found the cave and were amazed at how difficult it was to locate, even knowing that it was there. At this point, Seaver rather strongly asked Peter to wait on the trail and show the other officers the cave. "Melissa and I will get her dressed. I think I may be better suited for that, and there may be questions asked later about how soon she was able to be alone with just female agents. If the media gets wind of you being in here with us, the PC fallout could embarrass the sheriff, at best."

But as Peter left the cave, Melissa gave him a wan smile and a shy wave. She seemed embarrassed, but amused.

When the others arrived, Kate Callahan brought in a bag of Melissa's own clothes, brought along on the off chance that she might be located and saved. Melissa was delighted, but asked if she could save some of the clothes from the cave.

"I think I deserve something for what I went through, don't I? And maybe it could be argued that those bastards who took us gave us this stuff, right? Some of this is pretty expensive if I had to go out and buy it, and some will fit Courtney, too. Let us divide it, if she wants. But there are a few things that I'll fight her for, and I have current possession, ha, ha. Seriously, can we girls keep what we want?"

The deputies and agents were baffled and looked at one another. They told her to wait until the district attorney made a ruling, and maybe then the victims could indeed have their pick. Photos of the items in question might suffice as evidence, especially as the criminals were both dead, and there'd be no real trial as such. The main issue might be that Bamka had paid for the lingerie with a credit card and would not now be sending payment for the merchandise. But health laws would probably prohibit the retailers from repossessing underwear. The bill would probably have to be written off.

Cheered a little by that news, Melissa looked shocked and asked if anyone had a cell phone that she could use to call her family. "I totally forgot them in all of this excitement. Oh, damn! What if they blame me for what I've had to do! I had to do what I was made to, or I'd be dead now, and so would Courtney."

"Trust your family," advised Callahan. "You may have a bad self image about now, but they know you and they've been calling us just about every day. Believe me, they want you back. They're more worried about your safety than they are about what you may have been forced to do. As for that, unless you want to write a book or sell your story to the tabloids, I think the details can be limited to the testimony that you give the DA in a private session and your written statements. The public will have to get along without knowing anything that you consider too humiliating."

"Thanks, "said the local girl. "Hey, we could maybe sell our stories? For how much? I totally need money for next semester's tuition and books!" She seemed really curious.

On that note, someone loaned her a phone and agents spoke on other phones to Hotchner and to Ford. They then returned to the scene of the incident, where officers called in from routine patrol duty were securing the scene, with orange Crime Scene tape up.

CSI arrived and took enough photos for a coffee table book. Van Reenan and Blacklaws were especially interested in the account of the Bigfoot and examined the footprints, several of which were quite good. They gathered a few hairs found on bushes and saved those and blood smears and drops for the lab. Faced with Mellissa's account, borne out by the hairs, the tracks, and the violence of the animal, those who had previously doubted the existence of the beast were nonplussed. They speculated, some on each side of the issue.

The small convoy taking Melissa back to town paused by the crime scene and she asked that Peter accompany her. Seaver joined them, Melissa studying her with a raised eyebrow. She had begun to catch on that Seaver and Blacklaws might be more than professional colleagues. As they left the cave, she asked Callahan if that was true. Told that those two were indeed involved in more than law enforcement, Melissa grew quiet, but still wanted Blacklaws along, with or without Seaver.

She asked if they could stop for a cheeseburger and potato cakes at her favorite burger location and was told that the officers would be more than pleased to do that. In fact, they all got burgers and ate them before proceeding to the sheriff's station.

There, they met the senior agents, Sheriff Ford, and key deputies. The media was told that there would be a press conference the next day and given a simple statement from Ford and Gaines. And then, agents took Melissa home, going by a back way to dodge reporters' vans. They drove up Melissa's alley and her family admitted her to their yard by the back gate. The officers shook hands with her family as they observed how warmly they received the missing girl. And then, they went home or to their motel, depending on which agency was involved. Ashley went to the motel to further brief Hotchner and his team, but she agreed to meet Blacklaws for breakfast the next day.

And that effectively ended the case, save for the follow-up work, lab studies, and the giving of statements by the girls who were saved.

Hotchner was quite happy when Rossi came by his room near midnight with a bottle of Chivas Regal. The team had long since finished his earlier bottle of Dewar's, and he felt like celebrating, so had bought the Chivas, no single malt Scotch that he liked being in the liquor store.

"This is one case that I'm glad we solved," remarked Hotchner. "Bigfoot and all!"

To which Rossi replied, "I'll drink to that sentiment!


	55. Chapter 55

Murder in the Forest, Epilogue

The better part of a year later, Jennifer Jareau got a phone call from Ashley Seaver. Seaver wanted to know if it would seem presumptuous if she sent wedding invitations to the BAU team. "After all, I haven't worked with you guys in awhile."

Jareau told her to send the invitations. "We may not all be able to come, but I think I'll try, and you'll get some gifts. The main thing is, no one will feel offended that you didn't invite us."

"Sounds good," agreed Ashley. "Okay, I'll send them. While I'm on the phone, do you want an update, telling what became of all of us out here who were involved with the Bigfoot case?"

"Sure," said JJ, who was off duty and relaxing at home, if housework could be deemed "relaxing." "How's Peter? I thought you two would have already been married. We thought of taking bets about how soon the wedding would be."

Ashley laughed. "Well, that's part of why I called. Peter and I are getting married, but not to each other. But we're still good friends. Actually, I'm marrying Bill Waters. Want to guess who Peter is marrying?"

Jareau snorted. "Probably some lingerie sales clerk. I remember that trip you two made to those shops and your description of the women there."

Seaver laughed. "A good guess, knowing his interests. By the way, we did shop there together a few times and those girls seemed interested in him. But, no, not a lingerie sales dolly, nor is it one of those VS models that he admires. It's Courtney Cassidy.

"Peter and I were together for almost four months," she continued, "but it was a drag to commute to Elk Pass for me and for him to drive to Seattle. And he wants to live in Elk Pass and succeed Grant Ford as sheriff when Grant retires in a year or so. I think Peter will be elected handily. John Knowles, the Undersheriff, and Grant have both said they'll endorse him. John is retiring, too. He doesn't want to be sheriff, says it'd interfere too much with his fishing time. That's so totally John, if you know him.

"Another reason why we broke up is that I want to remain with the Bureau and retire with my pension when I'm old enough. And I like what I do here for the Bureau. I've helped to break several big cases and rescued over 30 trafficked women. Many were underage. I feel really sorry for them.

"But back to me: Bill and I got better acquainted at work and I realized that he's a really funny guy, if a little droll. Peter is that way, too, of course, but Bill and I have more in common, and we're both FBI agents. When we began to drift apart, Peter asked Courtney out and she accepted. By the way, she gave up dancing in that club after we saved her. Said that she couldn't continue there, especially with men coming to see her because she'd become a local celebrity. And it was her dancing there that got her spotted by Mason and Bamka. With Mason Realty and Insurance closed, her dad's business picked up a lot, and he hired her as a realtor. She's good at that, and her infamy probably even gets her some customers. So, she sells houses and offices and dates Peter, who she admires as her rescuer. Peter says that runs in the family: his great grandfather, the famous white hunter, saved his own wife from slavers in British colonial Kenya in 1928. Now, Peter is marrying a girl who he helped to save. He chose well, I think. Courtney is all giddy over him, and she has prime qualities that Peter wants in a wife."

Jareau laughed. "Like, she can bait her own hooks when they fish? Knows her way around a rifle and where to shoot an elk? Likes amateur astronomy and birdwatching and gets off on modeling lingerie for her guy? Am I pretty close?"

"Yeah, you hit all of those nails on the head," Seaver admitted. "And she wants to stay there and raise their children in Elk Pass. It's really a nice place for kids to grow up, without the race issues and crime and schools focused on educating at the lowest common denominator level, for Politically Correct reasons. And as you'd expect, plenty of fishing and hunting opportunities. And Peter's family winery isn't too far away. His family likes Courtney, by the way. And she admitted to Peter and me that she'd been hoping that he'd ask her out back when she was dancing at the Boobalicious club. She and I can laugh about that now and how she tried to sit by him when we saved her. I like Courtney and I'm really relieved that Peter and Bill are still friends, despite Bill sort of taking me away from Peter. I think Peter viewed that with relief, because he'd realized that we weren't ideal for one another and Courtney is exactly what he wanted, in looks and personality. I think she'd even tolerate him asking for Candice Swanepoel's autograph if she ever visits the VS shop there. Courtney admires her, too, and would probably ask for an autograph for herself, and ask her for glamour tips. Not that she needs any. Courtney is beautiful, as you know. Her mom taught her and Tessa - her sister - a lot about makeup and whatnot, and she was a beauty pageant contestant. Her daughters have both benefitted from her background.

"That brings us to Melissa Winters. She and Courtney are still friends, but after a few months, she decided to take a semester or two off from college. She's serious about wanting to try her hand in Hollywood, so she moved to Los Angeles. It's gone better than expected. Because she and Courtney got quite a bit of national publicity from the kidnapping and they both sold their stories to publishers, she was able to get an agent, and she got roles in several TV commercials and did some modeling for car shows and the like. Then she and a friend went to one of those clubs where girls go to look for sugar daddies to keep them. Those rich guys know where to shop and they often keep girls they meet there. Now that a certain famous publisher of a men's magazine is married, some who'd otherwise try to become one of his multiple girlfriends have to prospect elsewhere, I guess. Melissa impressed a producer and he got her a role in a B film and they started hanging out. She's moved in with him. He's only 20 years older than her, and she seems smitten. She told Courtney that he's sort of masterful, and she likes that. She just didn't care for having to be Mason's slave, afraid for her life. But he turned her on to some stuff that she likes in role play. You can guess most of it, I think. I'm afraid to know all of the details. But she loves him, and he seems to really care for her. I'm sure they're the ultimate kinky couple, and he thinks he can get her additional roles in films. Of course, what's kinky in most places is just the norm in Los Angeles.

"Melissa told Courtney that she'll marry this guy David if he asks and he seems to be moving that way. He quit keeping a couple of other girls and she's his sole lay now. She must be doing something right, if that's the sort of man she wants. Courtney said that she was wearing a ring that looks like a miniature slave collar when Courtney visited her in LA last month. She met the guy, too, and he's very imposing, with an aura of power, and he's worth over $50 million! Melissa fawns over him and he seemed to care for her. They were quite affectionate. Courtney said that he does have an exciting 'presence.' I wish them luck. But Courtney and I are happy, too, and I'm totally looking forward to getting married. Bill is just wonderful. I hope you and the other BAU people can get to know him better at the wedding.

"Look, how did the Bureau handle the Bigfoot angle to that case? I still think they're real and Melissa and I compared notes on the ones we saw after things settled down. Officially, the lab that tested the blood, the hairs, and the tracks would only say that they were not those of any known animal. They stopped short of saying that the evidence confirmed a Bigfoot."

"Same here," confirmed Jareau. "Hotch had a meeting with Diefenbaker and the Director and was told to inform the BAU that we were not to discuss the animal with anyone. The Director is afraid that if the FBI admits what some of us saw, the Bureau will be held up to ridicule. Remember the cardinal rule: Never Embarrass the Bureau! But Hotch admits that Peter and you and Melissa saw real Bigfoots."

"I'm glad," Ashley said. "Dr. van Reenan and his colleagues and Peter tried to track the one that killed Mason, but lost the trail. They agree that at least two of them were nearby, and that one killed Mason. Officially, his death was listed as due to attack by a large wild animal, possibly a bear. But none of the evidence suggests a bear. Grant Ford went along with that, to clear the case. But he told Peter and me privately that he accepts that we saw one Bigfoot and that Melissa saw another, and we all three heard a third. Melissa is really ticked off that her account of the Bigfoot was written off in some quarters as due to her being in shock and maybe suffering from PTSD because of her captivity. That was, after all, a stressful experience. She and Courtney have had some flashbacks and bad dreams. But their guys are helping a lot with that, and their families have been very supportive. I think they're dealing with the matter as well as any girl can. And probably better than most..."

"Did the sheriff ever decide why Bamka and Mason did what they did?" Jareau had often wondered about that.

"Yes, so far as we know, from what Mason told Melissa, they were just mean and liked hurting people and other animals. They were drinking one night and thought it would be cool to kill some people and see if they could get it blamed on Bigfoot. And then they saw the girls at the club and the ice cream store and just thought that it'd be fun to take them and see how well they could make them perform as slave girls. It was a sex thing and a power thing. The murders were mainly a power thing and for the thrill they got from killing and from thinking how they'd make the police think it was done by Bigfoot. They figured that even if we saw through the Bigfoot angle, they'd get off on our not being able to solve the crimes, while they lived right there in Elk Pass and walked around in front of Sheriff Ford and his force. They were driven by sheer raw lust to kill and to feel a power rush from that. They didn't expect that the girls would get to them on a personal level and make them like them so much that they didn't want to kill them if they could force them to debase themselves and please them as masters who could demand whatever they wanted from two hot blondes. Melissa said that she never knew what her ultimate fate was to be, but hoped that if she kept Mason impressed with her in bed that he'd hang onto her and maybe something would happen to free her, or he'd let her go when he ran for the Mexican border when he thought the heat was off. She thinks he meant to go to Brazil eventually.

"By the way, the biologists who did the necropsy on that bear said that it was probably Peter's .375 Magnum bullet that killed it, but your 10mm bullets also helped and one got in deep enough that it was probably a fatal wound. So was my hit with the 7mm-08. But the state insisted on keeping the hide, so I'll need to shoot my own bear, with a hunting license, if I want a rug. And I think I may just do that. Bill wants to hunt both elk and bear next year. I want to join him.

"So, are you coming to my wedding? Let us know in a couple of weeks. We need to finalize the guest list and tell the caterer what we need for the reception. Peter and Courtney are getting married the week after Bill and I do, so we can each attend the other couple's nuptials. Like I said, we're all in a good place with one another. I think we'll stay friends. Peter's family winery is supplying most of the wine for both weddings. They make fantastic wine. Tell Reid that we'll serve coffee, too, though. " She laughed.

"Well, I'll tell everyone to look for your invitations, then," said Jareau. "Look, my son is making a mess with jam. I need to go. But thanks for calling, Ashley, and tell everyone there hello. We'll get back to you soon on who's coming to the wedding, but congratulations to both you and Bill."

Later that night, she called Kate Callahan, now one of her best friends at the BAU. "Kate? It's JJ. Hey, Ashley called this afternoon, and guess what?"

The End

_Well, it was a long journey, and if anyone read all of this fic, nearly a year in writing, thank you, and I hope that you were well entertained. If nothing else, you got your money's worth. I hope that the fic proved the adage that the best things in life are free._


End file.
